


We could build a house, hide it in a rose

by dancingsynapses



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:55:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24484684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancingsynapses/pseuds/dancingsynapses
Summary: Elizabeth's pregnant and Rio has to decide if he wants to be a part of their lives. Can he? Can they build a house together even if bullet holes are in the foundation of it?
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 124
Kudos: 546





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted Elizabeth and Rio to have a child together. But when the fake pregnancy trope happened during Season 3, so many people were yelling about how they didn't want Beth to have another kid. And I totally understand why. She already has four! FOUR! But still, that's what fanfic is for. 
> 
> I LOVE THE IDEA OF RIO BEING EXTRA SOFT TO BETH for whatever reasons. SO INDULGE ME. Pregnant Beth has a hold over Rio and SHOOT ME but I just love the idea of them being together and being pregnant. 
> 
> OK BYE.

“I’m pregnant,” the words cut through the noise in the bar and leaves him feeling singed as they burn into his ears. For once, he’s frozen in place, considering the implications of her words and the fear that’s evident in her blue orbs.

Fuck. He’d been gone, what, 2 months? And the last time they’d fucked was when...shit. The week before she’d put three bullets in him, in the stupid dealership when he’d come to congratulate her on the reopening and the FBI backing down a little. She’d worn that navy blue wrap dress and he still remembers the feeling of it bunching around in his hands. The way she’d wrapped her legs around him and encouraged him to go harder. How he’d emptied himself inside her, then watched as it dripped out when they were done.

_Stupid_.

He hadn’t spoken, just taken a seat back on the bar stool and watched as her hands shook around the glass of wine she was nursing. Could this be a lie? He wouldn’t put it beneath her. Afterall, wasn’t it her who kicked him out of bed right after he had worn his heart on his goddamned sleeve? Elizabeth would do anything to save her own life, to prevent her children from becoming motherless. At that, he thought of Marcus, how she had almost left him without a father and he felt the rage bubbling in his stomach again.

Clenching his fists, he looked at her and despite the lack of makeup and the gaudy sweater she had on, she still looked beautiful. Ethereal even. Her blonde hair like a crown atop her head, her milky skin almost translucent under the light. What would a child of theirs look like? Would it have her blonde hair or his dark one? Tanned skin? Or creamy white? 

_God damn it_.

All it took was five minutes beside this woman and his plans for revenge had been pushed aside, the need to hold her in his arms so strong he felt like he needed to anchor himself in place to prevent him from surging forward to grab her. Shaking the thoughts away, he stood up and walked away, leaving her alone at the bar. 

He had to. Another minute and he would have cracked, shown her all the fucked up feelings that were threatening to show on his face. He might as well just write her a love letter. Sitting in his car, he leaned back against the headrest and exhaled.

It couldn’t be true. Couldn’t be. It seemed the universe was hell bent on tethering him and Elizabeth together. So much so that even the ricochet of three bullets in his chest couldn’t break that bond. Pulling out his phone, he shot a quick text to Mick, before pulling out a contact he hadn’t used in years.

_Dr Grace Bloom_

-

She closes her eyes as she battles the wave of nausea rolling over her, shopping bags hanging lowly on her arms as she sways slightly in the evening sunlight. God, she’d remembered the morning sickness to be bad, but it seems to have gotten worse this pregnancy. Briefly, she wonders if it’s because she was way past the prime reproduction age, but shoved those thoughts away.

For months, she’d thought him to be dead. The weight she carried in her belly hers to bear. Haven’t even decided how she would tell Dean, contemplating whether to pass the child off as his just so she could give it a complete, normal family. But the thought had been a fleeting one, considering how they haven’t been sleeping together for awhile and even a man as dumb as Dean wouldn't be convinced of this immaculate conception.

She hadn’t even told Annie or Ruby. The only discussion she had of this child, was with the child. Whispered words when she lay awake at night, apologizing for bringing it into a family without a daddy. Then promising that she would love it as much as she could, so much so that she would fill up their entire heart with nothing but it, so they would never know the ache of missing another parent.

But the day he showed up, she’d felt like a weight was lifted from her shoulders. Even though he had dramatically reminded her of the damage she’d done, she held hope that he could spare her, spare them and fill that space in their child’s heart with the love it deserves. But then he had said nothing and walked away. Leaving her alone again, and the weight that was gone for that brief second came crashing down on her again.

“Hey now.”

She opens her eyes and spots him walking round his car, his voice soft and gentle, the perfect scene of serenity on a beautiful evening. It’s too bad she knows him too well. Knows that he doesn’t show up unless he wants something and that beneath the calm, collected exterior often lays something dark and violent. 

She forces a small smile, even though it’s the last thing she wants. What does she want? To yell at him perhaps, to blame him for forcing the gun into her hand, for making her shoot him when she didn’t have a choice. To ask him why he would leave her after she’d told her she was carrying their child. But none of those come out, so she stands there looking at him, wondering if he’d actually died that night and a stranger had slipped into his skin instead.

“How you feelin’ Mama?”

She quells down another wave of nausea and feels a light sheen of sweat coat her forehead.

“Nauseous.” 

“Let’s go for a drive yeah?” Is this how he’s going to play it? A drive into the outskirts of town so he can put three bullets in her the same way she had done to him? She can’t let him do that to her. To her child. Their child. But he won’t. He’ll let her bring this child to term at least right? One last gesture of generosity. Surely he can offer her that? Even a ferocious tiger doesn’t eat its cub, she remembers one of her Chinese friends saying once. Perhaps he’ll give their child more love and affection that she can.

“My ice cream’s gonna melt.” She tries, even though she knows the excuse is futile. It’s Rio afterall. And mostly, what Rio wants, Rio gets.

“Get in the car, Elizabeth.” 

Dumping her shopping bags into the back of his trunk grouchily, she slips into the passenger seat of his ridiculously expensive vehicle. Seems like two months out of the game and he still had it. Perhaps he had even more now, after all, he'd helped Turner take out those rival gangs as she watched it unfold all over the news, wondering why the crackdown had escalated suddenly. It all made sense after Turner had died and he'd popped out of the earth again like a vampire resurrected. Good for him, maybe not so good for her. 

The setting sun shines through the tinted windows and she squints slightly. Stealing a glance at him, she notices that the sharp lines of his jaw are even more pronounced now, collarbones peeking through the signature black t-shirt jutting out as if his skin was stretched taut over it. He'd lost weight. And then suddenly, she feels like crying.

How ridiculous that she hadn't cried when he slapped the three bullets on the table at the bar that night. Hadn't shed a tear when she found out she was pregnant. But now, thinking of him losing a few pounds was sending her into a crying fit. Wiping the tears away from her cheeks angrily, she forces down the fury of being betrayed by her own emotions and turns her face towards the window, the cool glass cooling her heated skin. 

"Why are you cryin'?" God his voice is too soft. Laced with too much concern. The sound of it making the butterflies in her stomach start fluttering their wings. Every flutter makes her want to reach into her gut and kill those damned things.

"It's called pregnancy hormones. We cry at the weirdest things." She spits out, the tears still slipping down her cheeks which made her infinitely angrier. She balls up her hands on her thighs like little stones, ready to be hurled at any unassuming passerby. 

"Right right." He leaves it at that, but not before throwing a box of tissues into her lap, which makes her cry more when she thinks of the reasons as to why he'd keep such a thing in his car. Marcus of course. Children and spills are like peanut butter and jelly. Never one without another. 

The car slows to a stop in front of a clinic, and for a brief moment, she panics. Wondering if he wants her to get rid of it.

"Hi, we have an appointment with Dr Bloom." He informs the receptionist as she contemplates making a run for it, but then decides that there's no way her two little legs will make it fifty feet before his long ones catch up to her. 

Settling onto the couch, she fiddles with the hem of her sweater while trying to avert the gaze of the other mothers in their rooms with their swollen bellies. The happy faces they have plastered on are a mocking hell of their own. The clinic is full of bright colours and wacky patterns, but here they sit. A mismatched couple, dark and chaotic, like a storm cloud rolling in on a bright sunny day. 

The lilac gown she had to change into feels heavy on the skin, the same way she'd imagined the orange jumpsuit would have felt if the FBI catches up with her one day. She stares up at the white ceiling as Rio and the doctor make small talk about Marcus. He’d brought her to their family doctor and the thought of it makes her insides twitch like a restless tick.

He insists on doing an ultrasound even though the doctor doesn't find it necessary. So she sits through having a plastic device shoved into her while both their eyes stay glued to the small black monitor. 

A faint humming starts to fill the emptiness in the room and the doctor starts congratulating them on the pregnancy. But she barely hears anything, the only sound in her ears the weird electronic humming and the small tiny blip on the monitor. The proof of its existence. Their child. A life they'd made together. 

She lifts her eyes from the monitor and they immediately lock on his black stormy ones just in time to catch a flicker of genuine marvel and wonder before he clenches his jaw and steels his gaze. 

"Paternity test." He all but spits out to the doctor, tone venomous, before heading for the door. 

"There is literally no other option. It's not like I was sleeping with anyone else." She shouts too loudly for the small examination room. The words bouncing off the walls and hitting them square in the face. The rage from having him pluck her out from her lawn, ice cream melting in the back of his car. Then shoved into this clinic just for him to prove a point. The anger and indignance explodes from her uncontained and splatters all over the walls and the white coat of the innocent doctor. 

He stops in his steps, jaw twitching, fists clenching in clear anger. 

"I'll give you two a minute." Dr Bloom removes the probe from her with a quick flick of her wrist and Elizabeth hisses as she disappears out the room, the soft humming heartbeat leaving along with her. Elizabeth finds herself missing it. 

"You don't have to be a part of this. But not believing that this baby iss real? Not believing it's yours?" She scoffs, angry tears welling up in her eyes. 

"That's rich, coming from you." 

"What's that supposed to mean!" 

"You'd do anything to save yourself, Elizabeth. You're the most selfish person I know."

His words sting. Not because they are groundless accusations, but because she knows he speaks the truth. That she'd do anything to stay alive for the four children she has at home and the one she carries inside her. That yes, she is selfish because she doesn't want to die. 

"You're right. But I'm not lying about this. And I meant what I said. You don't have to bear any responsibility. Just… Just let me do the least as a mother and bring this baby into this world."

She's defeated now. She knows she's fighting a losing battle. That she'd made the gravest mistake in this game they were so fond of playing. She'd tried to kill him. And whether her hand was forced or not, fact is, she put three bullets in him and that's not something you forgive just because you survived. 

He's quiet too. Silently contemplating if he wants to be a part of this child's life. Whether he wants her to be a part of it. Whether he wants them to be a part of it together. 

"I'm not an asshole like your husband." With that, he's slamming the room door and leaving her alone again. 

-

His fingers are partially strangling the life out of the steering wheel and he's slamming his foot on the accelerator as if he's running away from his sins. Then he hits a red light and his brakes are screeching at a volume that makes his head hurt. The thud of her fucking groceries in his trunk snaps him out of his anger clouded revenge plans and his mind is instantly filled with the image of her in that stupid lilac gown, her eyes bluer than the fucking ocean he'd brought Marcus to see last summer.

_Fuckkkkkkk_

He pounds the steering with the heels of his palms once more before making a turn and speeding back towards the clinic. 

Except she's not there. And he blames himself for being stupid enough to think she'd be sitting on the curb waiting for him to turn back. Fuck. That woman would rather walk till the soles of her feet bled than to phone anyone for help.

Slowing down, he trails the roads leading back, anxiety building up as he gets further away from the clinic and still sees no signs of her.

He's about to message Mick to run a hack so he can _Find My Friend_ the shit out of her location when he spots her, sitting on a bench at the side of the road, looking a little green.

Rio slows the car to a stop, but she hasn't noticed him yet, so he takes the few seconds he has to watch her. She's different when she's alone. Her back's less straight, and she looks...less bright. Like someone's taken a photo of her and lowered the saturation by a notch, the fire sizzling out. And he's uncomfortable with her looking like that. She's Elizabeth. Always ready to run her mouth off about some new business venture or scheme she has, always ready to bite back at him for being the one bad thing in her life. Not sitting here meekly like lamb. 

"Get in the car." He lowers his window and calls out to her. And just like that, the saturation is turned up again. He can literally feel the red seeping out of her and threatening to taint the monochrome in his frame. 

"You left."

"And now I'm back. You gonna get in or what?" She glares at him, then decides it's way too far and way too late to be going home on foot, so she gives in. 

"Do you have a plastic bag?" She asks, the passenger door swung open but she hesitates to get in. 

He gives her a blank expression. Why the fuck does she need a bag? 

"I'm nauseous. And your driving isn't the best." It isn't true though, she knows that. But she can't be sure she won't hurl all over his dashboard. 

"Just get in." She slips into the seat begrudgingly, telling herself that he totally deserves it if she gets sick all over the leather seats and his expensive console. But then he surprises her by taking her hand in his and pressing hard into the crevice between her thumb and index finger. She flinches at first, but then he starts rubbing small circles there and she feels some of the nausea start fading away.

"Feeling better?" She leans back against the headrest and let's out a shaky breath, before nodding. 

"What was that?" 

"Heard it helps." He shrugs, as if it's not a big deal but continues the movement anyway. She imagines him doing it to Rhea when she was pregnant with Marcus. Imagines the way they’d both shared happy smiles when they saw him on the monitor for the first time, and it chokes her up, because that memory she has of seeing her child for the first time? It’s tainted now. Words like “paternity test” and “it’s yours” staining it, like splatters of spaghetti sauce on pristine white tablecloth. Now that the nausea is almost gone, she can feel the heat from his hands on hers and she can't help but stare. 

For the first time since she found out she's pregnant, she imagines doing this with him. Hand in hand, albeit unwillingly. Coparenting, being cordial, being support systems for each other, being actual parents, being partners. God whatever it is, she's felt more grounded than she has in months and a silver of a smile creeps up her face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhea weighs in on Beth and Rio's mess of a relationship and Beth makes a gesture to show her sincerity in wanting to start afresh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta, we die like men!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Also an excuse for all the mistakes I probably made. Please pardon any errors!

The sun’s out. Elizabeth takes it as the universe’s sign of offering her a break, so she rounds up her kids and drives them down to the park for some self-entertainment. Her eardrums are about to shatter from the shrieks of “Mummy!” that have been incessant the past few gloomy days. But it seems that all the parents have the same sentiment, because when she reaches the park they frequent, it’s crowded. Almost all the picnic benches are occupied and she sighs while her children make a break for the playground. 

The bags filled with juice boxes and orange slices weigh heavy on her shoulder and she’s contemplating whether to share a table with the single-dad from Jane’s class when she spots a familiar head of cropped hair.

“MARCUSSS!!!!!” Jane’s shrill voice and the way she almost crashes into the tanned skinned, gapped toothed boy is the only confirmation she needs. Rhea’s here. Her face burns. From shame? From guilt? She’s not sure. She’s not even sure what Rio told her, only that the last time they’d spoken on the phone, there was some sort of uncertainty and awkwardness lingering in the air. Despite her intentions of befriending the mother and son, she genuinely enjoyed both their company. And having another adult other than Ruby or Annie that truly understood what motherhood was...fun.

“Is it ok if I sit here?” Rhea looks up from where she’s seated, surprise showing in her brown eyes. She gives a curt nod, but other than that, proceeds to ignore her, gaze locked on Marcus. Elizabeth is stiff on the opposite of the bench. She’s facing forwards towards the jungle gym, but so is Rhea. Their eyes never meet. She recalls a time not so long ago when Rhea would have insisted she sit next to her, their shoulders bumping, sharing stories about their children.

“I don’t know what he told you, but it’s probably all true. You should hate me.” Elizabeth speaks, but she feels stupid when Rhea doesn’t as much as shift in her seat, her back straight, posture perfect while she faces away from her.

“I just wanted to make Marcus happier.” She thinks about the boy now, the vibrant smile that always seems to be on his face when he’s with Jane and the sickeningly sweet way he’d called her  _ Mrs Boland _ when he passed her that picture he drew.

“Yeah? Then you shouldn’t have shot his father.” There’s venom in Rhea’s voice, but Beth’s just glad that she’s incited some sort of response out of the woman. Even if it’s not a positive one.

She wants to tell Rhea that she didn’t mean to do it. Describe the circumstances in which the gun was forced into her hands. How she’d felt so estranged from Rio days before he’d kidnapped her, how she’d felt like he would have killed her. But instead, all she makes is a strangled voice in her throat.

“You know what, you should stay away from us. Marcus, me, Rio. We’re better off without you.” Elizabeth winces..it feels like a slap across her face, the stinging lingering even after she can no longer hear the words thrown her way. She thinks of the child inside of her. How will she ever be able to stay away knowing that she’d always be tethered to him now?

“Rhea...I know I’ve wronged you. I’m sorry. But Jane misses Marcus and no matter what happens between us adults, they aren’t a part of it. They deserve to be happy.” 

“You lied to me, Elizabeth. You shot my kid’s father, almost killed him. Then waltz into our lives and let us get attached to you. You realise how fucked up that is?” She’s spun around now so Elizabeth can see the unconcealed anger in her eyes and she faces it, doesn’t avert her gaze. She feels the heat and it’s like fire licking at the edges of her skin, but there’s no running from it anymore. If this is hell and she’s paying for her sins, then she’ll stay willingly.

She nods. There’s nothing she can say to make things better. For someone as glib as she is, this is the moment she finally finds herself at a loss for words. 

“Marcus! It’s time to go.” There’s whining from both children when Rhea literally drags him off of the playground, separating them like star crossed lovers, and Jane bursts into tears when their car door closes. She runs a hand through her daughter’s hair, cooing words of comfort into her ears, promising that she’ll see Marcus again really soon, even though she isn’t sure if that’s the truth. 

-

She’s burning with the intensity of a wildfire when Rio turns up to pick up Marcus. She’s usually cordial, never overstepping the boundaries of work and their personal life, but this time his work has spilled over and she’s left cleaning up the mess.

“Why is she still alive?” It’s not that Rhea wants her dead. No. Even after being married to Rio for 2 years, and knowing some of the ins and outs of what he does, she could never want anyone dead. But what she doesn’t understand is, how someone like her is still standing on both feet after the stunt she pulled.

“What’chu talking about?” He’s looking around her empty living room for any signs of Marcus, clearly trying to get this handover over and done with.

“Elizabeth. I saw her at the park.” He stops in his tracks and stares right out the window.

“I didn’t take you for the forgiving type.” He doesn’t either. In fact, he still feels the thirst for revenge leaving him parched, like he’s dehydrated. But every time he’s near her, that urge feels more sated. And he’s still unsure if it’s because she’s an oasis in the desert of vengeance or because with a quick fire of three shots, he could have the satisfaction of payback.

“She’s pregnant.” Ok, she definitely did not see that coming. 

“Is it yours?” She doesn’t need to know the answer. She knows him. Can read him like her favourite book, remembers the words in every chapter before she even reaches it, knows the feeling of every page. And right now, even though his body is held tightly wound, there’s a slight softness to his face. That’s how she knows the answer without him having to say it.

There’s a lot of things Rhea doesn’t like about Rio. His career choice, the way he likes to keep things to himself. But if there’s one thing she knows, it’s that he’s a good father. Or at least he tries to be. The way he carries himself around their son, the way he looks at him like he’s the brightest light in a dark life, she’s always been thankful to have shared this bond with him. And the thought of someone else having the same? 

She shakes those thoughts of her head. He’s not her husband anymore. They are co-parents. They do it for Marcus.

“Are you sure?” At the sound of that, he snaps his head back towards her. There’s a darkness in his eyes she hasn’t seen in awhile. Not since they’ve decided that their marriage was a dead end that they both needed to get out of. Keeping their lives separate had kept situations at this to a minimum.

“You think I’m an idiot or what?” He scoffs, before rounding the sofa so he’s standing opposite her at the kitchen island. If she wants to have this conversation, then he’s happy to put an end to it today.

“You’re pretty damned stupid around her.” She answers back. It reminds of her of the countless times they’ve bickered in the exact same spot way back when. 

He grits his teeth and she can see him working his jaw, the telltale sign that she’s hit a nerve. Then it dawns on her that he’s not just keeping her alive because she’s pregnant. He’s got a soft spot for her and it hasn’t started recently. It’s the reason she got close enough to put those bullets in his chest. The reason he hadn’t just gotten his boys to get rid of her immediately after. He’d reserved this revenge for himself, a personal touch for someone that has gotten under his skin and burrowed in deep. 

“You like her.” He doesn’t say no and that’s all the confirmation she needs. His palms are flat against the marble countertop now and his head is angled towards the table, as if it’s taking him an enormous amount of effort just to contain all the frustration that’s bubbling inside him.

“Goddamn it Chris! That woman is fucked up. She tried to kill you! And now she’s holding a kid over your head like some bargaining tool so you don’t kill her.  _ Mierda! _ Can’t you see how fucked up this is?” She’s waving her hands around now, her chest heaving in anger and even though she knows Marcus is right upstairs, she can’t find it in her to quieten her voice. It’s as if she thinks the louder she is, the faster he’ll wake up from this dream he’s so caught up in.

“I’ll figure it out.” His calm disposition scares her. And that’s because she knows for a fact that inside, he’s battling something huge. It’s like he’s taken a Cat Five storm and bottled it up inside what he thinks is shatter proof glass. But she’s been with him long enough to know that the more he tries to keep it in, the more it rattles, and sooner or later, the bottle will break, the storm destroying him before he even has a chance to see it coming.

“Chris, wake up! She doesn’t love you. She’s not capable of loving anything other than herself.” Her voice is broken now, and it’s so reminiscent of the times she’d begged him to leave crime, to choose his family, choose her. She thinks of all the moments she’d shared with Elizabeth over coffee, over tea, over bottles of red wine spilled on her living room carpet. The times she’d confided in her about her insecurities, all her deepest fears pulled from the depths where she’d hidden them and splayed across the table for her to scrutinize, only to realise that this relationship she thought she’d built? It was all a lie. She may not have put three bullets in her, but it hurt all the same.

“I said I’ll fix it.” With a slap of his hands on the table, he leaves the kitchen, leaving her alone, the soliloquy she’d just given filling up the invisible spaces. He hadn’t taken a single word she said with him. If he did, she wouldn’t still feel them hanging heavily in the room.

Marcus kisses her goodbye, but she doesn’t register it.  _ You gotta have your head in the game _ . He’d once told her, when she asked how he manages to be so calm and rational all the time. He may be able to fool everyone with that well crafted look of stillness on his face, but she knows his head is anywhere but straight and in his line of work, it’s always a bad omen.

-

She drops the plate from the printing press into her bag, sighing as she sets it down on the craft table. 

“Wooo, we did good tonight. Think gangfriend’s gonna give us a raise?” Annie fans a stack of freshly printed cash against herself, the individual notes making slapping sounds. Ruby rolls her eyes as she settles herself next to Beth, who’s twiddling the strap of her tote bag in her hand.

“You should be happy he doesn’t kill your sister.” Ruby rolls her eyes as she settles down on the seat next to Beth. When Rio first showed up, Beth had convinced them that he’d agreed to let her live as long as she continued printing for him. But that had been over a month ago and now that she was about to show, there was no way she could continue lying to them.

“He’s not going to kill me.”  _ Not until I give birth at least. _ They both look at her as if she’s insane, or as if she’s grown two heads.

“I’m pregnant.” She feels the weight of the secret dissipate as the words leave her mouth, but she doesn’t look up. Unsure of what she’s expecting herself to see when she does.

Annie’s mouth gapes open and close like a fish.

“Wait, with Dean’s baby?” Ruby rolls her eyes again, as if she’d just heard the most ridiculous question in the world.

“And why would he not kill her because she’s pregnant with Dean’s baby?”

“I don’t know! Maybe he’s got some kind of gangster code or something and children are off limits?” Annie shrugs, before waving her arms around.

“It’s his.” And just like that, without even saying his name, they know exactly who she’s referring to.

She doesn’t know if it’s the pregnancy hormones, or the fact that she’d been so alone in keeping this secret, that once it’s out, she feels an immense sense of relief that finally, finally, there’s someone who knows. Someone that isn’t trying to kill her.

Beth finds herself sobbing before she realises it, big fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” Ruby asks, before running a hand up and down her back in a soothing motion. Meanwhile, Annie looks as lost as a lamb. She hadn’t really seen Beth cry before. Not when she found out Dean was cheating on her, not even when guns were held to her head. To see her big sister crying like that, it makes her feel like something’s tilted the cosmic balance.

Beth sniffs a little and evens out her breathing. 

“You know we’re here for you and that baby no matter what right? I mean, have you seen Gangfriend’s son? He makes surprisingly great kids.” Annie takes her hands and she finds herself choking out a laugh.

“I hate you both.”

“Hate your face.” Ruby replies as if by default, as if nothing in the world would ever change the way they feel about each other.

“There’s also another thing.” She says as she fishes the plates out from her bag.

-

It’d been hard reaching him, but she’d been determined. First calling him multiple times on the last number he had contacted him, then leaving multiple messages till his inbox was full. When that didn’t work, she left a message with Rhea, saying that she wouldn’t leave the bar till he shows.

Which is why she’s here now, nursing a glass of orange juice when what she really wants is bourbon. She feels a slight tension building in the back of her neck, and it feels like the air’s dropped a couple of degrees. That’s when she knows he’s here.

“You’re really persistent.” He slides into the seat next to her and she offers him a drink, he sticks to water and it feels nice that he’s not drinking too. Some weird sort of camaraderie that makes her feel like he’s doing this with her, even though the rational side knows it’s all in her head.

She goes straight to the point and takes out the plates, sliding them across the table towards him. She knows it’s a bad idea, that these little pieces of metal are the only leverage she has over him after their child is born, but she’s so tired of them having to hold things against each other. The pills, the cash, the fingerprints, the FBI. There’s never going to be an end. He’ll always find ways to one up her and she’ll always have to retaliate. But he’s not just a one time fling to her anymore. Not the attractive gangbanger she’s magnetically drawn to. 

He’s the father of her unborn child. And if one day, she won’t be around to protect it from the world, maybe he will.

The look of surprise on his face is undeniable and she finds herself wanting to smile. The last time she’d surprised him was when he found out she was printing, the barely concealed awe on his face after she’d churn out tens from a bunch of ones. It’d had her riding a high for so long. 

The plates are a symbol. It’s her, handing over the printing press, the colour formula, the intricacies of turning pulp into smooth sheets of paper. It’s the keys to the kingdom, as he’d once said. And now she wants him to have it, a reciprocation of the time he’d handed them once too. 

More than that, it’s her way of giving in, a white flag waved not because she’s afraid, coerced or cornered. But because she knows that their lives are going to be intertwined for however long she’s allowed to live. That’s another reason too. She wants to live. Doesn’t want to always have her life tethering at the edge of his blade. Wants to let him know that she doesn’t wish him harm anymore, and hopefully one day, he can feel the same towards her too.

He seems to know the exact weight behind this gesture. Afterall, he’s always been spectacular at reading her, even when she’d once thought no one else could. Dean had always fallen for the caricature she’d drawn, and while Annie and Ruby tried, they only skimmed the surface of who she was and what she was capable of. Him though? He knew the exact lengths she’d go to and the darkness she was equipped to bring.

Sliding the plates back towards her, he clenches his jaw.

“This a bribe, ma?” She shakes her head vehemently. Sometimes it’s worse when he knows exactly what she means but insists on feigning ignorance. It frustrates her to no end that he always wants her to verbalise her thoughts when he already knows what she wants to say, word for word.

“It’s for you. No strings attached.” But of course, there’s always strings attached. She can already see the lines tethering him to her. Her only hopes are that one day they won’t be such a tangled mess.

“Nah, you see ma, with you, there’s always strings attached.” He sounds so tired that her heart aches a little inside, because his weariness is an exact mirror of hers.

“That’s true. But it’s not what you think it is.” He flexes his neck and angles his chin towards the ceiling, the tattoo on his neck exposed and catching her eye. Funny how she’d been so intimidated by it the first time, but now, it’s like the most ordinary thing.

She runs a hand along her abdomen absentmindedly, drawing courage from the act before she begins her speech.

“I want to start over. And I know it’s not going to be easy and I’m not expecting you to say yes. But this is me taking the first step.” She nudges the plates towards him again and he meets her half way, his palm capping atop hers, swallowing her small hands whole.

They don’t talk, not for a moment and she knows he’s trying to savour this peace for as long as he can. But eventually, he pushes the plates back again.

Then, in an unexpected moment of gentleness, he reaches out for her cheek, gently brushing away a stray strand of hair. The gesture so soft, so achingly familiar that she feels something crack inside of her, warmth seeping out.

“I’mma need you to keep printing a’ight?” His tone is even now, and she knows well enough from all their past correspondence that he’s not picking a fight, just trying to keep things status quo while he figures things out.

So she nods. He needs time and she’ll give it to him. As she looks at him walk out of the bar, shoulders held tight, not a bounce in his step, she makes a wish like a fool holding on to hope. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was fun exploring Beth and Rio's relationship from Rhea's perspective. I also kind of like how Beth's taking the initiative to mending their relationship even though both have a huge part to play. It's like she's being the bigger person. Then again being kidnapped is easier to get over than being shot thrice right? 
> 
> As usual, it's always a pleasure hearing your comments!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds out Beth's pregnant and tries to torture her in subtle ways. Rio finds out and helps Elizabeth with her problem.

The thing about lies is that it’s like trying to conceal fire by wrapping it in paper. You think it works for that half a second, until it catches on and bursts into flames, bigger and more fearsome than before. 

  
Elizabeth knows that. She does. Which is why when Dean starts to ask why she’s taking her coffee decaf and why the liquor cabinet remains untouched, she decides to tell him the truth. There’s disbelief in his eyes, which gradually transforms into disappointment and then she watches as it morphs into something vengeful and dark.

This is how she finds herself in the kitchen at two am in the morning, waiting for a hundred cupcakes to cool before she can frost them. She’s tired, her feet hurt and her back feels like it’s been scalded down to the bone, but she can’t stop.

_ “Since you decided to open up your legs and become such a whore, maybe you need to be reminded of what it’s like to be a good and dutiful mother.”  _

The words sting, and she knows he’s trying to punish her, because even though he knows there’s no hope for their marriage, he plays the cards closest to her heart.  _ Being a good mother _ . 

He’s wearing her down. First, exclaiming that the house was filthy and unfit for his children to live in, then demanding that she cleaned all through the weekend, scrubbing floors on her hands and knees until they bruised, then promising Jane’s classmate that she’ll have a hundred cupcakes baked for her birthday party. 

She’d retaliated, refused to do anything more for him. But then he’d pulled out his trump card.

_ “Oh Bethie, I guess with a house so unkempt and a mother so busy she doesn’t even have time to bake for her kids...I could file for sole custody?”  _

She’d felt her lip quiver under the weight of the words, the tears threatening to spring forth, but even then, she couldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She needed a plan, but for now, she’d comply.

Sighing, she picks up the phone without checking the caller ID when it rings, surprised when it’s his voice coming through the receiver.

“Hey Ma.” As the familiarity of his greeting hits her, she feels all the indignance and grievances she’s had the past few days rise to the surface, like a pot threatening to bubble over. She wants to tell him about how tired she is, whine about how her feet hurt and her neck feels so heavy she can barely hold her head up, but instead, all that comes out is a small whimper as she tries to push her feelings under.

“What’s wrong?” She shakes her head, even though she knows he can’t see her, not trusting her voice enough to speak.

“I’ll be over in ten minutes.” She opens her mouth to object, thinking about Dean asleep upstairs in Kenny’s room, but the line clicks dead before she can answer. Her shoulders sag and suddenly she’s filled with an expectant hope for his arrival, knowing that despite everything, she does want to see him too.

-

She’d been absent from drops the past week. It’s not like he’s keeping track, but hearing Annie’s non stop chattering about getting a raise or getting a company car almost broke his patience. It’s not like her to sit out on the action. Usually, she’s itching to hand over the money to him, pride shining on her face like the fucking moon on a clear night. So her not showing up repeatedly had raised some alarm bells.

He doesn’t want to call her. Doesn’t mean to reach out. Definitely didn’t expect to hear her whimper over the phone like a broken doll. The speech he had rehearsed to berate her about not taking this job seriously had all but gone out the window the moment he heard that broken noise. Which is why he’s out of the bar and heading towards suburbia right now. 

The strong smell of chocolate hits him even before he opens her back door. Slipping in quietly like he always does, he spots her slaving over the kitchen counter, cupcakes stacked on every possible surface. 

“You startin’ a business?” Her head perks up when she hears his voice and her shoulders relax, like she’s relieved to see him. It’s odd, because most of the time, she straightens her back and stiffens like she’s putting up a front. 

He walks closer to her now, and he can see her red rimmed eyes and faint circles beneath them. There’s a slight sheen of sweat coating her forehead and she looks clammy and pale, her cheeks lacking their usual rosiness. She looks at him with her big blue eyes bursting with words she can't find the energy to say and he caves. He should tell her about the drops she missed, tell her to get her head in the game, but instead he reaches out for her arm and stops her from frosting. 

"What's wrong?" His words are like a trigger to her floodgates and she begins to sob, big fat tears dripping down the curve of her cheeks and splashing on the counter, salting the cupcakes. Her shoulders heave with each tremor of her breath and he wants to look into her eyes so badly and tell her he'll fix everything, but she has them tightly shut now, squeezed into a tight line. 

He drags her to the couch even though she resists, gesturing to the frosting on the table and her unfinished work. But he's undeterred and forces her to stop, sitting next to her as she hiccups, the tears slowing and her breath regaining some regularity. 

"He'll take the kids." She says, voice barely above a whisper. And he's brought back to the exact moment in the bar. The day she decided she wanted out from the business and his life. It stings and he clenches his jaw in frustration. When will she ever stop letting that idiot of a husband run her life? 

"Is that why you haven't been turning up for the drops?" 

She shakes her head. Dean hadn't talked about her work, but then she realises that everything he's been threatening her with, it made her spend all her time at home scrubbing floors and wiping plates. Baking cupcakes and minding playdates.

"He wanted his house in order, wanted me to be a dutiful mother." 

"That why you're baking a million cupcakes?" She nods, then raises the hem of the dress she's wearing to reveal the bruises on her knees. 

The purple rings are like black holes in his eyes, burning through his vision and filling them with rage. They mar her creamy skin and the juxtaposition of purple against white makes him want to smash something, or better yet, break car man's legs. 

"He hit you?" She shakes her head, lowering the hem of the dress again so the damage is covered. But he still sees it. The exact shade of purple blooming. 

"He said the house wasn't clean. Wanted me to scrub it till it was spotless." The words are spoken between clenched teeth, anger and shame barely contained. And for a moment he thinks she's Cinderella caught under some curse conjured by a wicked witch. But he knows her better than that. Knows she's not meek like a trapped princess waiting to be rescued. Imagines her putting up one hell of a fight before he threatened to take her kids away. 

He lifts her arms up and sees the same bruises decorating her elbows. The image of her propped up on her knees, scrubbing the floors for hours appears in his mind and he sees red. Fucking car man.

"He's here?" The threat in his voice is evident and he regrets not putting a bullet through his skull back when he had the chance. But she puts a small hand on his arm, the cool skin lowering the temperature of his own. 

"The kids are here." It comes out as a surrender, resignation that despite all her strengths, he's always going to have her on a hook as long as they share the kids. And he understands. Thinks of Marcus and what he'd do just to keep him happy. The years he spent with Rhea a nightmare he's happy he has walked away from, but it comes with an understanding that not everyone has the luxury to do so. But he can give that to her. 

"I'll fix it. He won't take your kids." Her eyes widen like he's promised to give her the moon, filled with hope and expectation. He has to look away. He's not used to being looked at like that. Not the Knight in shining armor or the hero who saves the day. Retracting his hand from hers, he sits back as she leans forward, shaking the kinks in her shoulder and back loose. 

"How? You're not going to kill him right?" He huffs out a quick laugh, the worry of him being mistakened as some kind of superhero fading away. This is Elizabeth. She knows him, seen people die at the nod of his head. Of course she's more practical than that. 

"Ever heard of a lawyer, darlin'? I got a damn good one." she blushes, embarrassed that she thought the worst of him, and it makes him smirk a little. She's not wrong though, he does want to kill him. 

"Beth?" The sound of Dean's voice echoes down the stairs and she immediately stiffens, hands hovering around her stomach protectively and Rio's heart aches a little. She's doing this for her kids. And that includes the one she's carrying inside her. His kid. 

There's a look on Dean's face that makes Rio extremely pleased. Like a cross between seeing a ghost and a panther in the wild. So he smiles, the teeth baring kind of smile that he knows is predatory. 

"What's going on?" Car man's directing the question to Elizabeth who's looking at them both like she's watching an atom bomb go off in slow motion. 

"What's going on is that you're going to leave Elizabeth and the kids alone." His voice is low, but still casual, the kind of tone he reserves for the lowlives he already knows he can own.

"This is my house. She's MY wife and those are MY kids." Dean puffs up his chest like it'd make him seem bigger and more intimidating, but really it just makes him look like a rooster trying to pick a fight with a panther. 

He chuckles. The sound is sarcastic and it hopes it sends a chill down that douchebag's spine. Hope it reminds him of that time he'd shot him in the chest. 

"Right right. That's all gonna change real soon when my lawyer sues you for adultery, negligence of care towards your kids and oh wait…money laundering in your previous company." Dean's face pales considerably and his mouth gapes open like he's trying to think of a comeback. 

But Rio doesn't give him the chance. 

"So why don't you pack your bags and sleep in your car or your ma's basement or sumthin'? Else I'mma cap you and then call the police and say you've been abusing your wife." He raises Elizabeth's hands and gestures to the bruises clear on her skin, and he sees Dean freeze. 

He fishes out his gun tucked in the back of his pants and waves it in a dismissive fashion. 

"Go." 

Dean scrambles up the stairs and he sees Elizabeth relax minutely, her body leaning towards his and her eyes closed in relief. Then, he's out of the front, doors slamming loudly, a hundred unfrosted cupcakes left on the table, like turtles missing their shells.

He turns and finds that she’s looking at him again, the same look shining in her eyes, except now he hadn’t just promised, he had actually climbed a million miles, plucked the moon from the sky and given it to her. It’s gratitude, it’s admiration and it’s a hundred other emotions in between that he cannot bear to name, because he knows if he stares back for a moment longer, he’s going to break.

So instead, he walks towards the kitchen and starts putting away the cupcakes.

“You know what’s a cupcake without frosting?” He asks her, trying to break the tension lingering in the air. 

“Ruined?” She replies, peeling back one of the liners and taking a bite out of one. He watches as she does so, tiny crumbs finding their way to the neckline on her dress, like little trails he’s meant to follow.

“Muffins.” He replies, as he runs a finger along the sprinkling of crumbs and watches as her mouth falls open. He tries to walk away, he really does, but she’s got a hold on him like no one else. And Rhea’s right. He’s soft for her. So soft that he feels like he’s walking on quicksand whenever he’s so near. The harder he tries to pull his feet out, the deeper and faster he sinks.

Elizabeth stands on her toes and wraps her fists around the collar of his shirt, then angles her head so her lips meet his perfectly. And from that moment, not only is he unable to walk away, he doesn’t want to.

She’s impossibly soft and sweet. He licks into her mouth and tastes the cupcakes - salt and chocolate. She moans and the sound travels right to his cock, and he feels like a fucking teenager again. Her hands move to undo the buttons on his shirt, but it isn’t working because she’s too damn distracted and she lets out a frustrated little growl, her lips never leaving his. He grins into the kiss, before tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth, watching as it turned cherry red.

“Not here.” He juts his chin towards her bedroom and unwillingly removeds his lips from hers, but makes no move, letting her take the lead. When she takes his hand in her small ones, pulling him away from the cupcakes, he follows.

Elizabeth turns on a small lamp at the corner of the room and nothing else, the light giving the space a golden glow. She thinks of the last time they were here, evening sunlight spilling into the room and how they’d had sex till the sun had almost set. She remembers how tentative she had been, how nervous, and she feels the same way now. Unzipping her dress, she lets it slip away from her body and pool at her feet.

He takes in her frame, illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp. He hadn’t seen her like this after she’d gotten pregnant and he already notes the changes in her body. Her breasts are bigger, hanging heavily from her chest, and there’s a slight curve at her lower belly. She’s not that far along, but the bump is unmistakable and he can’t take his eyes off it.

He walks towards her, before curling a strand of hair behind her ear and tilting her chin up so she isn’t avoiding his gaze. Then he turns his attention to her stomach and brings his hand to it, hovering but not touching, silently asking for her permission. 

She nods and frames his own hands with her own, bringing them to the small bump. Her skin is soft and smooth and the moment too intimate. He never thought he’d be able to feel her this way again without remembering the betrayal and the thirst for revenge, but right now, he swims in an ocean of calm. 

“You’re beautiful.” It slips from his mouth before he can stop it, but somehow, he cannot bring himself to mind. The way she looks, glowing under the soft light, curves in all the right places, he thinks she’s a goddess. 

He flutters his fingers further down from her belly and lingers at the edge of her panties, watching as her eyes close and she lets out a soft breath. Dipping under the edge, he finds her soft curls and silky wet heat. Slipping a finger inside her, she shudders as he feels her pussy clench around his finger. 

“Fuck ma. You’re so wet.” Elizabeth nods, it’s all she can muster in this moment as she feels herself drenching her panties. Rio cups her breasts in one hand and she lets out a throaty moan. 

“Sensitive.” She gasps out, and he stops immediately and she misses his touch. Shaking her head, she grabs his wrists in her hand and moves them around her breast again.

“Just be gentle.” He nods, before pulling down one of the lace cups, licking at her nipple and coaxing another mangled moan from her. Slipping another finger into her, he strokes her languidly and it stokes the fire building in her. She wirths around him, hands tightening on the grasp she has on his shirt and her mouth falls open in pleasure. 

“Take off your shirt.” She moans out breathily. He chuckles out a laugh and slips his fingers out from her, watching as she strips off the rest of her lingerie and lay down on the bed. He would worship her forever if he could, on his knees with his tongue, with her thighs between his head. It's moments like this when he feels the spell she has over him is thickest, a dense fog that makes it hard to see, hard to breathe. Every breath and sight consumed with his need to be with her. 

He peels his shirt off his torso and like he expected, her eyes go straight to the three reddened scars in his chest. But she surprises by not crying, her lips not even quivering the slightest. Instead, she takes in the image whole, running her fingers along the slightly raised ridges and tracing each spot with a maddening slowness, committing them to her memory. There's guilt of course, but he knows she's accepted the fact that this will always be a part of their relationship. The scars proof of what she'd done. 

She lowers her fingers, scratching along his nipple and making him groan, his cock twitching anxiously in his jeans. She unbuttons them and watches as it bounces against his stomach when she pushes his pants down with his boxers, a glistening bead of precum decorating the tip. 

Rio gently nudges her back against the bed, his body enveloping hers as he takes her lips into his, leaving her whimpering under him. He strokes along the opening of her slit, spreading the wetness he finds there languidly. The fire burns in her, his motions igniting them once again, making her restless as she thrusts her hips up against him, wanting more. 

He kisses her on her chin, a short peck, then nuzzles his nose in her neck. He knows she's impatient, her body squirming under his, but it's been too long and he wants to savour this. It might just be a moment of lust, but in this lust filled haze, there's no revenge or guilt, no anger or fury. Just an insatiable thirst of each other. And there's no denying how much this sets him free. 

"Rio…" Beth whines as he gently caresses her lower belly with his nose, paying special attention to her bump. He chuckles, the stubble on his chin tickling her, before moving down to where she needs him most. He gives her a quick lick, a deep moan escaping from his throat. 

"You taste as good as I remember." It's true, she tastes good. But it's almost as if he can tell the subtle difference in the way her juices coat his tongue now that she's pregnant. It might be the hormones or just the thought of her carrying his child. But it's sweeter, richer, mellower. And he can't get enough. 

He delves into it, licking the length of her pussy before focusing on her clit. He watches from between her legs, her back aching in pleasure, her hair fanned out on the bed like it's blooming. When she's like that, he barely remembers all the fucked up shit that's transpired between them. All that's in his head is a relentless chanting of "Mine, mine, mine." 

Rio remembers the exact way she likes her pussy eaten. Alternates between tonguing her entrance and flicking her clit with his tongue, building a rhythm that he's confident will send her over the edge. He's glad she's letting him eat her out before he fucks her, because with how badly he wants her right now, he's certain he won't last long. 

"Yeah, just like that…I'm so close." Her eyes are squeezed shut. And he already knows she's on the edge before she says it. How could he not? Her juices are trickling down his chin and he can feel her tightening up, fighting his tongue when he breaches her entrance. 

" Oh God, I'm gonna...I'm gonna…" She doesn't finish her sentence. Instead she arches her back off the bed and her body stiffens before jerking with pleasure, rocking with the strength of her orgasm. He's pleased, wiping his chin on his shirt, then throwing it onto the floor, he crawls up to her and takes her lips in his, her body too overwhelmed from the orgasm to move. 

She tastes her juices on his mouth and flushes. The glistening on his chin is a medal he's wearing like some sort of pussy eating champion. He grins at her, that particularly wide one that shows his teeth and she can't help but match him. Rio's propped up on his elbows so he doesn't put any weight on her and she's touched by how much care he has for her. 

"This OK?" He asks, before slipping between her legs, his arousal nudging at her entrance but not entering. She nods, feels the heat rushing up from below again. God, when had she become so needy? He's slow with her, teasing the entrance with the head of his cock and coating it with her wetness. Beth moans when it bumps against her still sensitive clit, a shock of pleasure jolting through her body. 

She scowls when he repeats the motion, obviously taking too much pleasure in watching her squirm. Then she lifts her hips slightly and he slips into her, just a little, but it's enough to make both of them let out a loud moan. 

"Fuckkkkk, so tight Mami." His brows are furrowed in concentration and she knows he's not even halfway into her, but she feels so full, his cock stretching her tight entrance. She forces herself to open her eyes, to look at him, face contorted in pleasure. His hips are rocking slightly and she knows it's taking all his self control to not fuck her he wants to, but it's not just him. She wants him too. 

"Fuck me, please." It comes out as a whine and a breathy moan when he pushes into her deeper, his thrust is still slow but she can feel herself stretching to accommodate his girth and length. She takes a few deep breaths before he buries himself inside fully, the sensation so overwhelming and pleasurable she can't open her eyes. 

"Car man didn't fuck you right huh." Her eyes burst open as his teasing and she slaps him on the arm playfully. Dean never fucked her. Not since awhile ago. Let alone fuck her right. She bites on her lip and starts rocking against him, but not letting him pull out and she feels his cock rubbing against some unearthed spot of pleasure inside. 

"Shitttt. Fuckkkkk it feels so good." His moans are her reward. It's like every time he makes any sort of sound, she gets wetter and everything feels like it's washing over her like some sort of technicoloured wave. 

Eventually, she lets him go and he begins to thrust into her, first shallowly, afraid to hurt her. But then she gets annoyed and tells him she's pregnant, not seriously injured. That gets him smirking at her and withdrawing almost completely, then slamming back into her again. She nods her head enthusiastically, feels her breasts bouncing from how hard he's fucking her.

She forces her eyes open because the sight in front of her right now is too beautiful to miss. The chiseled planes of his body, along with the way his head is tilted back in pleasure. She wants to memorise this, because as much as she wants this to be her reality, she knows the fog dissipates, there's a harsher truth that separates them. His mouth hangs open slightly and she doesn't stop herself from tracing his bottom lip with her thumb. It gets his attention, because then his eyes are on her, and somehow everything is magnified. 

He palms her breasts and pinches her nipples, every ministration sending ripples of pleasure through her core. She knows he's close from the swell of his cock inside her and even though she doesn't want this to end, she can feel the tightening of pleasure inside her twisting for release as well. 

Rio shifts his hands between her legs and begins to rub at her clit firmly, his determination for her to tip of the edge with him holding his own orgasm at bay. And it's so quick the way she comes apart under him, the coil that was tightening reaching a peak and she feels herself clench around him, spasming erratically and with a force that sends her entire body shaking. 

She hears herself let out a loud moan, but she can't seem to control it, her pleasure too far gone for her rational mind to catch him. He thrusts into her a few more times and then he's gone too, a pained groan escaping him that's a mirror of her own, before she feels warm and wet down below. 

He slips out of her, then lays down next to her on the bed, both their chests rising and falling rapidly from the intensity of their fucking. Then, he lifts himself off the bed. Beth expects him to immediately pull away, braces herself for the temperature in the air to drop, for him to resume his cool demeanor. But he doesn't. Instead, he picks up his shirt from before and wipes between her legs, cleaning her up, before he curls against her like a cat and drapes his arm across her stomach, pulling her close. 

It's a moment later before she realises that they're spooning. He hums contentedly against her shoulder, warm breaths hitting her neck and slowing. Until she finds out that he's fallen asleep. It's only then that she lets her guard down, stops wondering if he's going to leave her and closes her eyes. 

Even if he's not here tomorrow, at least he's here tonight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't love smut! I've been really busy recently and the only time I've had to conceptualise any stories is the thirty minutes before I fall asleep in bed. But I've been itching to write so this came out! I hope you like it and I appreciate any suggestions/feedback :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio makes breakfast for the kids and an unexpected visitor shows up at Paper Porcupine, which makes Elizabeth wonder about her importance to Rio.

As if by clockwork, Elizabeth is awakened by a churning in her stomach at daybreak. She runs into the bathroom and hurls into the bowl even though there’s nothing much left in her system. Heaving over the toilet, she cringes as the acid burns her throat and she gags even though there’s nothing left, her stomach lurching uncomfortably. She should be used to this by now, afterall, she’s had four kids prior, but the morning sickness had never been this bad, not even with Jane, even though she was almost admitted to be placed on a drip due to dehydration. She’d learnt from that, constantly sipping on water or juice to keep her hydration up, but the constant retching still left her stomach aching with fatigue and her eyes tearing with the effort it took to keep the nausea at bay.

She’s leaning against the bathroom wall, the cool tiles against her back when she feels someone next to her. It’s Rio. He’s still here. Picking up her hand, he rubs firmly into the spot between her index and thumb again, the same way he’d done back when she was in her car. Even going through four kids with Dean, he’d never done this for her, never been in the bathroom when she was vomiting. He’d lingered when she was pregnant with Kenny, making sure she was okay, but he always stood outside the door, never inside, next to her and her pool of sick. 

Smiling, she places a clammy hand atop of his warm big ones. Looking up, he sees his face shrouded with a sleepy fog, eyes hooded like he’s on autopilot, and she wonders if he was this hands on when Rhea was pregnant with Marcus too. He ruffles her hair slightly, as if she’s a little kid and not a mother of four and she finds herself melting at the gesture. If their relationship is like the sea, then this must be her favourite part. When the storm ceases for just a bit and the air is thick with the smell of rain, the waves soothing and melodic.

“You ok?” His voice is raspy, deeper than it usually is, and she nods, patting her stomach fondly.

“This one’s a troublemaker. I’ve never been this sick with the others.” She prods a little at her belly, as if trying to get their unborn child into line, and he surprises her when he places his hand on top of it as well.

“Hey little one, don’t give your ma too much hell a’ight? Or else she’s gonna spank your bottom when you’re out.” His voice is light and teasing, the same way he’s heard him speak with Marcus at the park and somehow her eyes begin to get wet. He’s here. Despite how difficult it must be for him to sit with her, how difficult it must be to reconcile with the fact that the woman who tried to kill him is the same woman that’s now carrying his child. He moves to hold her hand in his and help her up, and she gratefully accepts it, the one act of support weighing more than what it’s worth.

Rio watches as she rinses out her mouth, twice, then she sips on some gatorade before going back to bed. The day is almost breaking, the faint orange glow the only thing that’s differentiating the night sky from dawn and as he watches her breathing even out and her hair fan against his pillow, he thinks about slipping from her room, away from her so he can get his head straight. But then she rolls onto her side and rests one arm on his chest, making little sounds of comfort that go right to his chest and holds his heart in a vice grip.

-

She wakes up with a bolt, the sky already alive with light which is how she knows she overslept. There’s the smell of pancakes in the air and the sound of her children laughing which makes her wonder if Annie has come over to help babysit. She notes the absence of Rio, but doesn’t give it a second thought, until she exits her bedroom and watches in amazement as all four of her children sit at the kitchen counter, breakfast plates in front of them and giving him their undivided attention.

“Now, what did you want again? Was it an octopus or a bunny?” He’s using his dad voice now, the same light and airy tone he’d used with their child and she’s decided to watch how this plays out, leaning against the wall slightly, watching in amusement. 

“Octopus Rio! Octopus!” Jane squeals out in laughter as Kenny mimics tentacles with his fingers and tickles his little sister. Rio spins on his heel and goes back to the frying pan, a squeeze bottle in hand. They’re all sitting their straightest, trying to get a glimpse of him at work, when after a mere few moments, he scoops the pancake out from the frying pan and presents it to Jane. From here, she can’t really tell what the octopus looks like, but Jane is thrilled, shrieking in her seat and clapping loudly while the other three start demanding more animals.

“One at a time guys!” He laughs and pretends to note down the orders on his palm. He lifts his eyes and catches hers, and she feels herself bloom in the presence of his gaze, her cheeks pinking. 

“Pancakes?” He asks in her direction and all four little heads spin to look at her. From there, it’s a competition to get her to notice them, all four of them exclaiming about the animal pancakes Rio has made, the way he used blueberries as eyes and how he’d told them they had to be quiet so she could rest. She gives each of them a gigantic hug and thanks them for being so good for Rio and then requests for a pancake of her own. Except she asks for it to be in the shape of a bottle of bourbon, which has Rio guffawing as he pours the batter into the pan.

-

“And then he made them pancakes...in the shape of animals.” Beth spills when they’re pulling a late night at Paper Porcupine, revelling in the way Annie and Ruby’s mouths hang open when she tells them about Rio staying the night and then making breakfast for the kids.

“Damn, get me a gang boyfriend too.” Annie whistles as she pours the pulp into their moulds. Ruby rolls her eyes and then retorts. “The only kind of friend you’re getting are the ones that live in their car and have to borrow toilet paper from you.” Annie swats her on the arm, then huffs out an indignant puff of air.

“When is cupid ever going to pay attention to me? You’ve got Stan and now Beth has got gangfriend playing house with her over there. When will it be my turn!” She throws up her hand in exasperation and Beth chuckles, even though she knows what Rio and her has is way darker beneath the surface. But the conversation is light tonight and she’d like to keep it that way, the sound of paper being pressed and cut soothing in her ears.

Ruby’s trying to find Annie a match on Tinder when the bells for the shop start tinkling. All three of them freeze.

“Didn’t you lock up?” Annie whispers, even though she doesn’t know why she’s whispering.

“I did!” Beth replies in a whisper as well. Who’s gonna be showing up at one in the morning at a print shop? She briefly thinks that it might be Rio or one of his guys coming in to check on the product, but they wait for a beat and no one comes to the back.

“I’ll go check.” Beth decides, then stands from her seat. Annie places a hand on her forearm, a slight fear in her eyes.

“Be careful!” She whisper shouts again and Beth nods.

“Hi! Welcome to Paper Porcupine!” She opens with her usual line as she walks into the shop, stopping in her tracks when she realizes these people are definitely not coming in for checkered place cards or custom prints.

There are two men, both heavily tattooed who are standing by the door. If she doesn’t know better, she’d think they were Rio’s boys. But then she notices the man who’s browsing through the store, picking up products to look at them, then putting them back on their shelves again. He’s well dressed, wearing a suit and an expensive looking watch with his hair combed back neatly. 

“Can I help you?” She asks, her tone more prickly now that she’s sure they’re not customers.

The well dressed man finally turns to look at her, assessing her from head to toe as if she’s a stripper on stage. She flinches under his gaze, but doesn’t show it. Instead, she straightens her back a little.

“I heard you’ve got the best workmanship when it comes to printing.” He purrs out, voice as smooth as silk and it makes Beth want to roll her eyes, because it’s so similar to what Rio had told her back when he found out she was printing. 

“We do. We do custom printing for invitations, cards and anything else you might need help with.” She regrets it the moment the last part of her pitch slips out because of what it might insinuate, but it’s too late anyway.

“That’s great. I need some dollar bills printed.” His honesty shocks Beth, but she quickly recovers and shakes her head.

“That’s counterfeit. We don’t do that.” She answers back, playing her part as the innocent housewife perfectly.

“Well, I know for a fact you do. And that you do it very well.” He takes a step closer to her and it makes her uncomfortable, he smells of smoke and expensive cologne and she can’t help but compare him to Rio. How they both smell of wealth, but one feels artificial and uninviting, while the other...well, the other’s familiar and warm.

“I think you might have gotten the wrong place.” She spits out, her mind wandering to the gun Rio had insisted she keep in the store. She’d rolled her eyes then, arguing that nobody would be interested in a craft store like this, but he wouldn’t budge and she’d begrudgingly stashed it in one of the paper boxes in the back.

“You’re Elizabeth right?” He gestures to the nametag she’s still wearing on her chest and it shakes her a little.

“Pretty sure I got the right place. I mean, it’s not like Rio to invest him time in such a….petite production, but I guess it’s got some special charm.” At the mention of his name, Beth’s mind reels. She thinks of Annie and Ruby in the back room and wants to scream for them to run. But the man hasn’t proven to be a threat yet, except for the two menacing looking guys that are flanking him.

“What do you want?” He laughs at that, head tilted backwards as if she’d told him the world’s best joke.

“What do you think I want?” He fires back and she wonders if all criminals speak like this, in circles, rhetorical questions thrown out like their gifts for the world.

“If you want me to print, I’m at capacity right now.” She grits her teeth in annoyance, the words coming out like venom.

“Oh no no no darlin. You misunderstand me.” He spins around the room, gesturing to the store.

“A small place like this...you’ve got like what? One or two presses at max? Producing a hundred grand a week maybe? That’s nothing compared to what Rio has got going on at his other places. But yet, he keeps this up and running. Which gets me thinking...there must be something real special about this place.” He gives her a once over, smirking as he takes her in her swollen belly and Beth pales. He’s not here for the money. He’s not one of those greedy men who want a piece of the pie. He wants her. Leverage against Rio. He’s more than greedy. He wants the whole pie to himself.

“He doesn’t care about me, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I crossed him once, so I’m paying him back.” She tries to downplay her importance to him, afterall, it’s easy to convince people that someone as charming and powerful as Rio wouldn’t be remotely interested in a suburban housewife, but from the way the man in front of her smirks knowingly, she knows it doesn’t work.

“Sure sure. If you say so. But it was nice meeting you in person, Elizabeth.” He raises his hand to shake hers, but she doesn’t react, so he simply spins around and disappears out the front door, his goons following behind, the only sound left in the room is the tinkling of the bells.

Beth recomposes herself, before walking back into the back, bracing herself for questions.

“Who was that?” Annie springs up from her seat immediately, accosting Beth the moment she steps foot into the backroom.

Beth shakes her head, like it was nothing.

“Oh, just a customer with some last minute changes to his anniversary place cards. He was really long winded, my ears hurt from his nagging.” She rolls her eyes and huffs out a laugh, trying to downplay the whole incident. She’s not sure why she’s lying about this, but before she makes sense of the whole situation, it’s better to keep the girls from worrying as well.

“Well, you finally got a taste of your own medicine.” Annie retorts, earning herself a smack on the arm from Beth as Ruby howls with laughter on the other side of the table.

-

She thinks it's almost like clockwork, how he shows up when the neighbourhood has gone to sleep and when darkness envelopes the entire house. And she thinks she's like the bird in the cuckoo clock that quietly waiting in its house till the hour is right, then bursting out to meet him. 

Sometimes it's midnight, sometimes earlier when the kids have just gone to bed after dinner. Other times, it's at some unearthly hour when she's already deep in her sleep when the bed dips beside her. Even then, she chimes for him, body curling against him like he's the opposite pole of her magnet. 

"Someone showed up at the store the other day." She tells him as he slips out of his jacket. He's been late the past few nights, and it hadn't seem right to bring up work when they were both foggy with sleep. 

He raises his brow in confusion, a tightness in his jaw. 

"Who?" 

"I don't know. He was well dressed, came with two heavily tattooed guys." She shrugs. Tries to brace herself for a Rio sized storm she can sense brewing. 

"And what did he say to you?" He's taking off his shoes now, and she shuffles on the bed, busying herself with nothing in particular, wondering how she can tell him the truth without him blowing his top and heading out to shoot someone. 

She shrugs. 

"He knows we're printing…." She starts and his head spins around from the bed to look at her, seriousness in his eyes. 

"Elizabeth. Tell me everything." And so she does. Tells him about how he'd said there was something special there. Tells him about the way he'd looked at her like he knew she was more than just some cog in his well oiled empire. 

His face is set in stone, the look sombre but unrevealing and it makes her escalate the situation in her head. Makes her think of the worst that could happen, her hand going to her midsection protectively. 

"Why do you make me print if I'm just a tiny part of your massive operation?" It comes out small and she doesn't like the way she sounds. 

_ That's nothing compared to what he has going on in his other places.  _

He runs his hand across his mouth, rubbing against the scruff on his chin and it makes her want to reach out and touch him, ease the tension on his shoulders, but she wants to know. Wants to know why he’d rushed her into printing, kept her alive when he saw the notes she’d produced, when he didn’t even need her in the first place.

“Needed a reason to keep you alive.” He answers, shrugging as the words leave his mouth. So it’s true, he has people printing elsewhere, yet he let her keep her little operation going. Helped her build her little empire in the back of a craft store, distributed her money, and in the end even gave her a cut. Her mind reels from the fact that what she thought was a punishment from him wasn’t that at all.

She reaches out to touch him, to place his hand in her lap and stroke his palm softly, the action louder than what she wants to say.

“Now what?” She asks. Actually, what she wants to ask is something vastly different. She wants to know who the man is to him, how he knows of her existence and how he seems to have knowledge of his operations at the back of his hand. But he doesn’t look like he’s in the mood to play twenty questions and right now, all she wants to do is trust him. 

“Now you lay low. I’m gonna get Mick to come keep an eye out for you again.” He reverses the placement of their hands so now his big ones are covering hers. She’s a little unnerved, and a little miffed because Mick hadn’t been the easiest to handle back then.

“Is that really necessary? I mean, the guy was...cordial when he visited. Even offered to shake my hand.” She explains, trying to wriggle herself out of having a babysitter. 

“You don’t know what he’s capable of.” The tick in his jaw is back and she can tell he wants to elaborate, a loaded silence hanging in the air. 

“Yeah well, I don’t even know who he is.” She rolls her eyes. It’s definitely like Rio to expect her to fall in line without telling her anything about the entire situation. 

There’s another huff of breath and a rolling of his shoulders, before he softens slightly.

“Mami, I’m just trying to keep you safe.” His eyes go to her swollen belly, before meeting hers again. His expression soft and resigned.

“We work for the same organization.” He offers the information up willingly, as if a offering her a truce. A little bit of explanation to satiate her hunger for the truth.

“Alright.” She answers, taking his olive branch graciously.

“Alright?” He questions, surprised she’d given in so easily.

“I said I wanted to start afresh. So this is me trusting you.” She leans back against the pillows propped against the headboard, hands going to her calf as she tries to massage away the soreness.

“Alright.” He answers, placing her feet in his lap and rubbing into the muscles there. She smiles at him, her hands placed atop her belly and watches as the familiar crinkle of lines at the corner of his eyes appear again, a smile adorning that achingly handsome face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rio making octopus pancakes was inspired from a scene in Graceland. If you haven't watched it, you should! As usual, your comments, kudos, bookmarks or even just hits, makes this worth writing! I mean, I'll write it even if no one read it, but knowing that you guys enjoy it...IT'S THE HAPPIEST THING.
> 
> Thank you!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth finds out more about Rio’s work.

He’s creeping in through her doors again. As much as he’d tried to stay away, he’s drawn to her like moth to flame. The entire night, even while throwing back drinks with the boys and joking around about women and guns, his mind had been on her, always her. The way her skin had started to glow, softly but radiantly like the moon on a cloudy night, the way her breasts hung heavier on her frame as he imagined the weight of them in his hands. The slight curve at her belly now that she had started to show, the way the arc on her back had seemed more pronounced now that she’s been leaning back slightly to accommodate the weight of their child on her waist.

_ Their child. _

As he slips under her covers and she shifts in bed slightly, gravitating towards him and curling her body up into the curves of his own, he thinks about what his ma had told him when he was younger and Rebecca Winter had broken his heart in fourth grade.

_ Mijo, it always seems like the earth has stopped spinning and that your world has cracked into half when you’re in the middle of something terrible. But a few years later, when you step forward and look back at everything you’ve gone through, but the pain you feel will fade away. Everything will seem much smaller when you’re looking at it from a distance. Right now, you’re in the middle of it, it seems like every thought, every moment, you’re consumed by the anger, the rage, the sadness, it seems too much and you feel like you’re about to burst.  _ _ Todo estará bien. _

Right here? Right now? It hadn’t even taken years, not even a few months and the memory of her putting three bullets in him seems far enough away for him to look at without wincing. He runs a palm along the side of his chest where the scars sit, and surprisingly, instead of anger or a thirst for revenge, he feels an ache. One that is only soothed when he moves his hand to run along the side of her waist. She twitches in her sleep, then lets out the tiniest of sighs as she moves even closer to him. He reckons she’s just cold and he’s just this burning inferno that keeps her coming back. 

“Rio?” She murmurs, sleep weighing heavily on her words.

“Yeah Mami, it’s me.” He wants to envelop her with his arms, pull her closer so every inch of him touches every inch of her, but it’s too much. At least right now, so he settles on tapping his fingers on her back, a soft rhythm he’s mastered to lull Marcus to sleep. It seems to be working though, because her eyes are closed again and her breathing even. And it feels so right, the warmth bursting forth from his chest and radiating to every finger and toe.

He’s just lying there, when he realises that her eyes are fluttering open, a slight pout on her lips.

“What’s up?” The concern in his voice makes him feel vulnerable, but in this dark night, there’s nowhere to hide.

“I want ice cream.” She answers, eyes barely open, nose snuggled into his chest. His face splits into a grin and he can feel his chest shaking with the chuckles that escape, her head moving along with the motion like a little boat riding gentle waves.

“A’ight. I’ll go get it. Strawberry Cheesecake?” She nods, her eyes almost shutting again, and he’s hoping she’ll fall asleep again when she starts to murmur.

“Why are you still here?” Chuckling, he gently maneuvers her and slips out of the bed, walking to the kitchen to grab a tub. 

“Mr. Rio?” There’s a small figure on the stairs watching him as he closes the fridge shut, ice cream tub in hand. He spots the small pink fluffy blanket clutched in her hand and fights the urge to smile. Jane’s hair is sticking out in some places and her face is blotchy, her eyes crusted with sleep. She must’ve been awakened by the light from the kitchen.

“Are you having ice cream? Can I have some too?” He looks at the tub in his hands, already sweating slightly from being out from the fridge and in his warm hands. He’s fucked both ways. If Elizabeth finds out he’s been giving her kids sugar at 2am, his ears are gonna be hurting from her nagging. But if he doesn’t give her the ice cream, he’ll have to explain to a kid why she can’t have it when he’s obviously giving her mum some.

Groaning he beckons her over and a smile creeps up her tiny face and she walks over to him with what Rio can only describe as a bounce adorning every tiny step.

He grabs the smallest cup he can find, along with the smallest spoon and scoops her what he considers the smallest ball of ice cream the world has ever seen. She pouts, but considers it a fair deal seeing how it is the middle of the night and mummy never lets her have ice cream this late.

Clinking his own spoon with hers, they dig in.

“Is mummy having another baby?” She asks, not even looking up at him, trying to portion her ice cream so it lasts. He’s taken aback by the question, but in true Rio fashion, avoids it.

“What did mummy say about it?” 

“That we’re having a new baby brother or sister and that Daddy isn’t the daddy, and that she and daddy are separated, but she still loves all of us the same. I don’t know what that means, but she says we’ll be having two Christmasses and two Birthdays with double the presents, so that’s ok. Oh, and that we can all go to Legoland at the end of the year if we’re good.” She continues asking if he’s been to Legoland and whether the rides are scary like what Kenny says, or if it’ll be fun like Sarah from school had told her.

He’s lost in thought, so Elizabeth had told her kids. And even told them that the baby isn’t carman’s. His chest does a little squeeze at the thought of what this could mean for the both of them, but before he can contemplate further, Jane’s asking another question.

“Are you the baby’s daddy?” He wants to groan, wants to tell her to finish up the last mouth and head up to rinse and sleep, but he also doesn’t want the kid to think that asking questions is a bad thing, and so here he is, caught between a rock and a hard place. 

“Rio?” Elizabeth emerges from the bedroom right at this moment, a soft cream coloured robe wrapped around her as she braces an arm on her lower back, walking into the kitchen absentmindedly.

She stops midway when she notices Jane at the kitchen counter as well, propped up on the high stool, an ice cream moustache on her face.

“You gave my daughter ice cream at two am?” Jane squeaks a little, hiding her face behind Rio’s arm as he chuckles.

“Well, you’re feeding our baby ice cream at two am too.” He retorts, and she huffs, before making the rest of the way into the kitchen and taking the seat next to Jane, ruffling her hair lovingly.

“Hand over the spoon.” Rio obliges, placing the cool metal in her palm as she digs into the tub, moaning a little when the ice cream slides down her throat. He feels heat blooming between his legs and he shifts slightly.

“So you are the baby’s daddy.” Jane concludes, before licking the bottom of the cup like a puppy.

Elizabeth quirks a brow at him, and they exchange a glance. She’s surprised to find his eyes warm and relaxed.

“Yeah, I am. You ok with that bunny?” He nicknames her, remembering the way she had all but bounced into the kitchen just now.

Jane shrugs. “You’re nice. I like you.” And then something breaks inside him, like a glow stick, leaving his blood running warm and sticky like honey.

“Yeah? I like you too. So does Marcus.” At the mention of his name, Jane begins a tirade, asking when she’ll see him again and whether they’ll be able to bring him to Legoland too and if Rio will come. She’s planning to leave Kenny and Danny behind since the van can only fit so many, when Elizabeth shushes her and makes her drink some water.

-

Despite Rio’s requests for her to lay low for a bit, Beth insists on continuing with her work at Paper Porcupine, declaring that she’d be bored out of her mind if she was stuck at home with nothing to do and Mick’s eyes on her.

It’s not that Mick’s been mean or annoying really. In fact, he’s been increasingly friendly, often greeting Beth with a nod when she leaves the house, and doesn't reject her offers of coffee and cookies. He’s usually in the backyard or in his car, but when she goes to work, he often takes the time to run his own errands, probably because the shop’s located on a fairly busy street so it’s safer for him to leave her alone.

The sound of paper being sliced in soothing to her ears, the monotony of blending, pulping, then printing something she actually enjoys doing when there isn’t a deadline to meet or someone’s life to save. Ever since Rio’s put her on shutdown for her safety, she’s been printing for the fun of it, the neatly stacked bundles of cash stashed away in cardboard boxes like some sort of insurance for a rainy day.

“Why are we even printing anyway.” Annie leans back into her chair with a huff, her lips turning into a pout. “Thought we were shut down...why are we even shut down?” 

Beth tries to avert her gaze, she’d thought that by continuing with the printing, she could avoid Annie and Ruby’s questions, but they’d noticed the fake cash stacking up in the back office and became suspicious.

“Ummm...well, some guy came here the other night, and Rio’s worried he’s bad news, so we’re shut down for the time being.” She busies herself with the bundling and the stacking, trying to be as nonchalant as possible about the entire thing.

“What guy? When? Why haven’t you told us?” Ruby pauses in the middle of the slicing and looks straight at Beth.

“The other night...remember we were printing when someone came in?” 

“You mean that night when you told us it was just a customer asking about his prints?” Ruby cocks a brow in suspicion and Beth resigns herself to fate, sitting back down on the chair and begins to explain.

“Yeah, so apparently he works with Rio and now, Rio thinks that he’s a threat of some sort so we’re shut down for safety reasons.” 

Ruby and Annie look at her like she’s grown two heads.

“I mean he wasn’t exactly intimidating...besides the fact that he had two muscle heads standing around. He was actually quite polite.” Beth goes on, trying to downplay the severity of the situation.

“What does  _ Gangfriend _ mean when he says they work together? Like they’re office buddies or something?” Annie asks.

Beth shrugs. “Rio moves the cash and the  _ good _ kind of pills. Apparently his colleague deals with the girls and the hard drugs. I’m not sure actually…”

Ruby looks at her with some sort of understanding in her eyes, but doesn’t say much.

“So he’s the bigger badder brother to the whole gang syndicate operation?” Annie perks up, leans forward in her seat.

Beth shrugs again.

“Like I said, I don’t know much. I’m just printing because it keeps me sane and also because it’d be good to be prepared once we’re back in business...not that he needs us…” The last part comes out quieter and even though her sister and friend are quiet, she’s sure they picked up on her tone, both waiting for her to elaborate.

“It’s just that. The man who dropped by? He said that Rio has more people printing for him at different places. And that the amount we churn out here is just a tiny part of his massive operation. I mean, why is he always on our asses if he doesn’t have a shortage of supply?” Beth finishes and she watches as Ruby shakes her head and sniggers slightly while Annie’s mouth falls agape.

“Oh my god, has Dean made you dumb to this whole relationship thing? Come on Beth! Gangfriend obviously has a hard on for you. I can’t believe you can’t see it!” Annie’s hands falls to her side in exasperation as Beth throws Ruby a look.

“Don’t look at me. I mean, she’s right you know. The reason is as clear as day. He just wants an excuse to keep you in his life. I’m not the number one supporter of this whole... _ Brio _ situation, but damn, that guy’s head over heels for you. You shot him three times and here he is finding reasons to make sure he can keep working with you.” Ruby goes on and on, but Beth’s mind lingers on one word…

“Wait, what’s  _ Brio? _ ” Annie rolls her eyes in mock annoyance.

“Beth plus Rio? Brio? I mean I can’t bring myself to call him by his name, but we got to refer to the both of you as something when we’re talking about you right?” 

“You talk about  _ us????”  _ She’s sure her eyes are as wide as saucers now.

“DUH. You’re having his baby. He’s signing off on our paychecks. And now we’re sure he has a huge crush on you. We definitely talk about the both of you.” Before Beth can respond, Mick walks through the door, a bag of takeout in hand.

“Yo man, thanks for grabbin’ the food.” Annie waves him over then begins to unpack noisily, paperbags crinkling as she fishes out the burritos.

Beth looks to Ruby for an answer but all she gets is a shrug.

“You guys are friends now???” She motions to Mick, then back to Annie.

“Pshh, we’re bros. Mick’s got sick taste in food and we’ve bonded over our love for Nikki Minaj on the days he’d dropped me home during shift changes at your place.” Annie reaches out to bump Mick’s fist and to Beth’s surprise, he actually responds in kind, his big tattoed hand reaching out to meet Annie’s smaller one. She’s pretty sure she’s living in a whole new dimension right now.

“Can you believe she doesn’t know Rio has a crush on her?” Annie mocks and Mick lets out a gruff laugh.

“Wait, you talk about me and...him...with HIM?” Beth’s flustered, can feel the blush burning on her cheeks.

“Yeah, who’d you think thought of the term  _ Brio  _ huh? Plus, we got a group chat and you’re not invited.” Beth whips her head to Ruby, sends her a betrayed look, but all she gets is Ruby’s hand raised in surrender.

“Ey Mick, so what do you know about the guy who came to look for my sister?” Annie asks mid bite.

Mick shrugs, as if trying to consider whether to talk about this, but Beth meets his eyes with curiosity and then he softens, setting his burrito down before speaking.

“Name’s Brian. Been working in the Organization for years. Longer than boss man has.” 

“So what’s his deal? Why’s he looking for Beth?” Annie encourages him while dipping a tortilla chip into salsa.

“He’s always been trying to one up Rio. Rise up the ranks y’know? But bossman’s always been the favourite. Probably thought Ms Elizabeth’s important, wanted to know what he’s playin’ with.” He gives Beth an almost pitying look which makes her shift uncomfortably in her seat.

“I’m not important.” She stammers. “Rio’s got plenty of other people printing for him.” She lifts her chin defiantly.

The trio exchange knowing looks, but Ruby’s the first to speak.

“Oh honey, that’s not why you’re important.” She pats Beth on the shoulders and even though they might think she’s dense for not realising just how much she means to him, she isn’t. She just doesn’t want to say it out loud, doesn’t want to admit or get her hopes up that she might just have a place in his heart, the same way he already has in hers.

-

Rio shows up in her room again like clockwork, although this time it’s different. There’s a set to his jaw she can’t loosen and his body’s held tight like a bow. He’d barely greeted her when he came in through the door, then he’d headed to the bathroom to take a call. She’s trying her best not to eavesdrop, but who’s she kidding? Being nosy is like her calling. But even though her ears are tuned to a hundred percent capacity, she can still only make out a few words like “deliveries”, “guns” and “shipments”.

She’s almost frustrated by how soundproof her bathroom is when the door clicks open and he steps out of the light into her dimly lit bedroom.

“Sorry Mami, t’was work.” He drawls out, before collapsing on the bed next to her, the fatigue evident in the way his limbs immediately goes slack.

But she knows well enough that he’s not relaxed, the crease between his brows still evident.

“Everything ok?” She asks. Wonders how they’d come to this level of domesticity. Him coming into her bedroom once the night marks the end of work and her asking about his day.

“Yeah, just work.” He exhales deeply and it comes out like a sigh. The man’s like an enigma, or a fresh clam. Trying to get any sort of information out of him is like trying to make a grumpy cat smile.

“Anything I can help with?” She asks sweetly, her hands reaching out to touch his forehead, but she stills before she does, still hesitant in touching him without his permission or the hazy fog of sex.

He nods, before pulling her down so she’s lying next to him, fingers soothing out the creases between his brows.

“Nah, Mami. Got it all under control.” He smirks, and she rolls her eyes.

“Will it be dangerous? I heard something about guns.” She says sheepishly, slightly embarrassed that she’d been listening.

He laughs, knowing she wouldn’t be able to resist nosing her way into his business. Then shakes his head.

“The guns ain’t for usin.” 

“Oh? Then what are they for?” He quirks a brow and the dots suddenly connect. Guns, shipments. He’s trafficking firearms now?

“You’re flipping your game again?” Now it’s her turn to furrow her brows.

“Nah...but I got orders from up there.” He points towards the ceiling and even though Beth knows he’s trying to keep it casual, he’s bothered by this.

Right. Mick’s mentioned it previously that Rio’s part of a much bigger Organization. She hadn’t given it much thought, but now that she knows, she somehow understands all the stress and pressure he has on his shoulders. 

_ Bossman’s always been the favourite. _

“Well, whatever it is, be safe.” She raises her arms and crosses them atop her belly, stroking it absentmindedly. Is she bothered by the fact that he’s dealing in something much more dangerous than just counterfeit and pills? Yes. Does he not want him to do it? Yes. But she gets a sense that he doesn’t want to do this too. He’d said to her once that he doesn’t deal with women and children, that he sets his limits. And she has a sneaking suspicion that this job? It’s pushing on those boundaries he’s set.

Before she can continue with her thoughts, she feels his hand resting on hers, his body turned to face her.

“How are you doing?” The warmth from his large hand spreads across hers and instantly, she almost forgets about the heavy conversation they’d had.

“Good. Much better now that the nausea has eased up.” He nods, then leans his head into the crook between her neck and shoulder.

“I’ll be safe.” He murmurs against her hair, his breath making goosebumps flutter on her skin.

And that’s all she wants to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been awhile! So sorry for the long wait (if anyone’s still out there reading this haha). I’ve been a little stuck and because of the whole COVID situation, I’ve been lacking the privacy needed to get into my headspace for writing.
> 
> So instead, I’ve been working on some fan art (you can find them on my Tumblr, dancingsynapses). LEAVE ME COMMENTS, CHAT WITH ME, or just anything. :) always love hearing from you guys!


	6. Chapter 6

They’re pulling another late night at Paper Porcupine, which Beth’s starting to realize, is really just an excuse for Annie to hang out with Mick and Ruby. The trio fills the space in the room with their boisterous laughter and wildly inappropriate jokes, only taking a break to munch on chips or pour another drink.

She finds that she likes it though. That they’ve somehow transformed their girl’s night watching ridiculous reality shows to something more...productive and wildly entertaining. She had been hesitant in letting herself get comfortable around Mick - after all, it’s clear where his loyalties lie. But somehow the conversation is always light when it’s the four of them. Annie retelling stories of their youth and Mick occasionally supplementing with one of his own. In fact she’d learned more about Rio through these conversations than she ever did speaking to him directly.

“...and then, she crashed into the garbage cans!” Annie gestures wildly to nobody in particular while Ruby shakes her head, recalling the memory of how she’d met Beth.

“That’s badass Mrs B.” Mick nods in her direction as Beth flushes, not really knowing what’s so badass about having to steal her Mum’s car to go grocery shopping in order to keep both her and Annie fed.

“You gotta stop calling her that, bruh. She’s more like Mrs...wait. What’s gangfriend’s last name again?” Annie asks, but Mick doesn’t answer and Beth feels embarrassment rise in her chest. She’s having his baby, but she doesn’t even know his last name.

“Alright, we’re done here!” Her voice sounds too bright, slicing through the awkwardness like hot knife to butter. She shuffles the remaining sheets of paper into stacks then retrieves the plates from the press for safe keeping.

“I’mma bounce. Ruby will give me a ride back.” Annie declares while Ruby rolls her eyes, both of them getting to their feet.

“You parked down the road right?” Ruby nods and Beth looks towards Mick.

“Could you...maybe walk them out to the car? I mean...it’s pretty late.” Mick nods, before ushering Annie towards the door.

“Maybe you should get me a gun..” Annie tells Mick and Beth swears she can see him rolling his eyes, even while his back faces her.

There’s a short dinging of the bell from the door closing before the room is engulfed in silence. It seems almost too quiet in here now that the musketeers are gone, leaving her alone with her thoughts. As a mother of four, silence is a rare and prized commodity, but it’s also foreign and lonely.

But before she can simmer, the bell is dinging again. She’s almost ready to call Annie out on leaving something behind when she sees a pair of tailored pants come into her view.

It’s Brian. 

She’s shocked for a brief moment, but quickly puts on her work face as she smooths out her apron and steps toward him.

“Hi, I didn’t expect to see you again. Was there something you needed?” Her voice is sugar sweet, but she feels like the honey from her words are coating her throat, leaving it sticky and uncomfortable. He smiles at her, but it’s more of a smirk, the way hyenas do when they spot their prey.

“Oh yes, in fact there is.” He’s stepping even closer to her now, and she catches the glint of the gun briefly before he’s got it pointed under her chin, his other hand lifting to run a finger over the apples of her cheeks.

She’s got a gun to her head way too many times to be this afraid, but she knows it’s because it’s always been Rio holding it - or one of his boys. It’d always been there in a symbolic manner, a way to get her in line. Threatening, but not deadly. But this time? Call it intuition, but she’s pretty sure he wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger if the situation calls for it. So she backs down, obeys him when he tells her to sit and stay still while he waits.

It feels like forever before Mick comes back to the room, pausing mid step when he sees Brian next to her. She almost feels sorry for him when he freezes, considering how she had been his responsibility and now she’s being held at gunpoint. If he’s shocked or afraid, it definitely doesn’t show on his face. In fact, she can barely get a read out of him even after weeks of being babysat.

“Well, call your boss Micky boy. I’ve got business to discuss.” Brian says in a singsong manner and Beth watches as Mick fishes out his phone and complies. 

-

“Fuck!” Rio exclaims into his empty car as the brakes screech just in time to stop at a red light. How hard is it to follow some simple instructions? He’d given Mick just one job. One fucking job to keep his eyes on Elizabeth and he’d fucked up.

The engine roars when the light turns green and he thanks the fucking heavens the wagon’s engine is powerful enough so he gets through the next few traffic lights before they turn red again, but even then, it’s not fast enough. Nothing is fast enough unless he can go back in time and make sure Mick doesn’t take his eyes off Elizabeth for a fucking second.

He practically leaps out of his car when he pulls into the lot behind the store and bursts his way in through the back door. The bells ding loudly and it makes his head spin when it’s accompanied by the image of Elizabeth held at gunpoint. 

Rio resists the urge to react, to show any signs of his anxiety on his face or body. The more he downplays this, the safer she is. Instead, he looks to Mick, who simply clenches his jaw in silence.

“We’ve been waiting for you Rio. Not even a hello for me? I’m disappointed _hermano_ …” Brian says as he pulls Elizabeth to her feet, moving back towards the store and putting distance between them.

“Yeah, you ain’t my brother.” Rio answers. He grips the gun in his hand tighter as he watches Brian scoff out a laugh, his arm rounding around Elizabeth.

“Not by blood, but by choice. At least by Rico’s choice ey?” 

And Rio just shrugs. But there’s a part of him that knows what Brian says is true. A position like this in the mafia isn’t given out like a job or a promotion. It’s paid for in blood. And they’d both paid the price years ago, signed their souls to the devil when they were barely old enough to drink. Somehow, the weight of their sins were lighter when carried upon two pairs of shoulders, so they’d bonded over that. But then Rico started to show favouritism and the meaning of brotherhood began to lose weight alongside the temptation of power and wealth.

That’s a lifetime ago.

“Let her go.” His voice is low and firm, even though inside he’s panicking. The way Brian’s got his arm wrapped around her makes him feel like there’s a noose around his own throat. The hand he has curled around his own gun is shaking, his own palms sweating so much he can feel the cool metal slipping from his grip. He knows what Brian is capable of, has seen him handle women, hurt them, torture them. There’s no line he wouldn’t cross, and right now, he’s got Elizabeth toyed in his palm.

He’s got to give it to her though, despite being held at gunpoint, she’s barely flinching, only wincing slightly when Brian tightens his arm around her chest, her arm protective around her swollen belly. Her gaze is steely, her posture defensive but not afraid. If it wasn’t because he knows her so well, he’d think she was annoyed. Bored even. 

Brian laughs and waves his gun around a little manically.

“Guess I found your soft spot huh? All these years, I thought I’d never find another one. Must be my lucky year.” Rio takes a step forward, but it only makes Brian shove the gun against Elizabeth’s temple.

“Nah nah nah, you stay right there. You may have made Rico promise to keep your son off limits, but her? She’s fair game.” He’s holding Elizabeth’s face in a tight grip now, examining her in an almost clinical way. The force of his grip leaves red marks on her face, but she’s tough, her lips pouted in defiance, her chin held high. 

“What do you see in her anyway? Is it the domesticity? Or that gorgeous rack?” He shifts the gun down to the top of Beth’s chest and Rio sees her lips begin to wobble and her eyes redden, but still she refuses to break, struggling against Brian’s hold.

“Or maybe it’s got to do with the kid in her belly?” He lowers the gun even further, barrel aimed straight at Beth’s stomach and that’s when Rio sees a tear escape her eyes, trailing down her cheek even as she tries her best to remain emotionless.

He knows exactly what Brian wants - the stupid arms deal. Rico had placed it in his lap, heck, forced it down his throat, even though Brian had practically grovelled for it. Drugs were split almost equally. Rio controlled the counterfeit, Brian got the girls, though fake money made way more than prostitution did. The arms deal was a tie-breaker, and even though he never wanted it, the old man pushed it into his lap anyway. 

“You want the Callico deal? I’ll back out of it. Didn’t even want it in the first place” He speaks nonchalantly, as tho the deal doesn’t mean much to him. It doesn’t really, but Rico doesn’t take kindly to men who back out of their assignments. Hates it when potential doesn’t recognize opportunity. If it were anyone else, he would have put a bullet in Brian’s head, to hell with it. But he can’t risk it. Can’t risk anything when it comes to Elizabeth. Not when the barrel of the gun is pointed at her, at their child. 

Brian quirks a brow at Rio’s offer, a smirk appearing on his face. 

“You tell Rico you can’t handle it. Say you’ve got something personal taking up too much of your time.” There’s a sly smile on Brian’s face as he says it, as though the cogs in his mind are spinning up a much bigger plan. But Rio doesn’t have the time to mull it through. Not now anyway. 

“Deal.” Brian smirks, slowly lowers the gun and Rio lets out a breath he doesn’t even know he was holding. The puff of air escaping his lungs, relief filling it as Elizabeth lets out a stuttering breath when she’s pushed forward. And he’s there to meet her. She doesn’t shatter when he catches her, but it’s pretty damn close, her entire body going slack in his arms as Brian lets out a snarky laugh.

“Better go home Rio, women like that aren’t used to staying out so late.” Rio wraps a protective arm around Elizabet before looking back at Brian, his teeth hurting from how hard he’s clenching his jaw. He doesn’t take his eyes off the jackass until Brian leaves the room, the rumbling of the engine drowning out the sounds of Elizabeth’s jagged breaths.

Once Brian’s gone, he refocuses his attention on Elizabeth, moving her slightly so he can take a good look at her face. She’s trembling in his arms, her eyes squeezed shut, her breaths coming out in little shaky breaths and her arms are circled around her stomach so tightly he can see the prominent outline of the curve. 

“Hey hey hey Mami, you’re ok now. You’re ok.” He’s prying her arms away from her belly carefully and slowly, replacing her hands with his own.

“You’re both ok.” His words are like a finger on a stack of dominos, and with that, she breaks, each sob louder than the previous until she’s completely wrecked, supported only by his arms.

-

The drive back is quiet, she’s staring out of the passenger window in silence and he keeps turning over to look at her, but she doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word, and for the first time, the silence spooks him. He’s done this to her a thousand times, ignored her, relished in the way she squirm in her seat, uncomfortable with the quietness lingering in the air, but this time there’s nothing. No questions about the deal he surrendered, about Brian, about what had transpired. At least when she talks, asks a dozen questions, he gets to know exactly what she’s thinking. Right now though, there’s nothing. She’s closed herself up, shutting him out. And he’d give anything to take a peek into her mind. 

When he pulls up at her house, there’s still nothing. She unlocks the door on autopilot, then slips into the shower, the door closing behind her. He’s hovering. And he hates it, hates feeling like a puppy waiting outside her bathroom. But there’s just something that’s making him want to stay close, to make sure she’s alright. So instead of slipping out of her French doors to make a phone call, he slides to the floor, back against the bathroom door, guarding a woman he doesn’t know what to make of.

He’s exhausted. Barely able to contemplate what this deal with Brian means for him. For his business, for the men who work under him. It’s like every time he’s with her, she seeps into every fibre of his being, clouding his every thought. He hadn’t even thought about anything else but her safety when Brian negotiated his deal. He wasn’t cool. He wasn’t calm. He’s barely sure he was even thinking. Exasperated, he runs his palm flat along his thighs, trying to remove some of his frustration when he hears her whimpering from the shower.

Getting to his feet, he raps his knuckles against the door thrice, waiting for her to acknowledge him. But he’s met with nothing but the sound of water splashing against tiles and soft sobbing. Pushing the door ajar, he enters tentatively as a cloud of steam assaults his face. Then all he smells is her scent. The sweet, citrusy shampoo she’s so fond of using. The image of her floats into his mind before he even sees her. Pink cheeks, white skin, bright eyes. 

Except that isn’t what he sees. She’s got a hand to her mouth to muffle the sound of her sobs, her hair falling around her face in wet stringy pieces, her body arched forward as he sees her frame shaking with how hard she’s crying. Growling, he rids himself of his clothes before stepping into the shower behind her, reaching out to hold her back to his chest, eradicating all space between them.

“You’re ok Mama, you’re safe now.” She whips around so she can tilt her head up, look him in the eyes. And all he sees is uncertainty and fear. 

“I...I...He almost...he almost killed us.” Her voice cracks on the last word, it barely comes out right and he feels his heart cracking along with it. Rio wants to tell her she’s just being dramatic, that Brian was just using her as leverage to get what he wants. Brain can’t touch him, can’t touch her. Wouldn’t be able to handle the consequences if he had really killed her. Wants to assure her that she’s never been safer.

But he doesn’t believe it entirely.

All this time, he’d been dealing with Elizabeth in secret. Away from the knowing eyes of the syndicate. Cleaning up her messes so it wouldn’t give anyone a reason to look into her. To Elizabeth, he’s the biggest threat. He’s the alpha, the omega, the king. But he isn’t. There are people even he has to answer to, people who are capable of much more cruelty than he’s willing to subject himself to. People like Brian, or worse, Rico. And now that one of them has their eyes on her, knows how important she is to him, he’ll need to work harder at keeping her safe.

“I’ll take care of it.” He says as he squeezes some shampoo in his palm and begins to work them into her hair.

“How?” 

“The same way I take care of everything.” He sighs.

“You can’t expect me to just sit here and wait for him to show up with a gun! I’ve got kids!” 

“Yeah? And I don’t?” 

“Marcus has immunity. He’s untouchable! It’s not the same for my kids.” 

“And you think I don’t know that? I’m trying to fix it. Why you think I made that deal huh? You think it has no repercussions on my business?”

His business. _His fucking business?_ She can’t believe he’s still thinking of that at this juncture.

“Oh fuck your business!” She spits out, seething.

“It’s your business too, darlin.” He drawls out and the word darling makes her skin itch with fury.

“Well, maybe I don’t want anything to do it with it! You’re the reason he’s coming after me anyway!” 

“You think all this is gonna go away just cos I do?” He’s furious now too, his voice coming out hoarse. She squeezes her hands into a ball, wondering how their arguments always seem to choose the worst time and place to rear its ugly head. 

“You signed up for this when you robbed the damned grocery store. Signed up for this the day you decided to bend over the bathroom sink and lift up your skirt for me!” 

He clenches his jaw to stop more words from coming out. He knows it’s not true. She didn’t just walk into this. If she was just some chick he fucked, just some woman that worked for him, Brian wouldn’t even have looked at her twice. She’s in this mess because she means something to him. But the truth lies bitter on his tongue and he can’t bring himself to say it.

Exasperated, he runs his hand across his mouth tiredly, the anger fizzing out with his outburst.

“Look, Elizabeth. It ain’t gonna work that way. Brian knows you mean sumthin’ to me aigh’t? He won’t just back off because I’m staying away.” She just blinks at him, her arms coming around to wrap around her torso. They’re both still threadbare, wet from the shower that’s still running. 

“Besides, Marcus ain’t the only kid I got you know.” His jaw clenches in irritation as he rinses her off, stepping out of the shower to get them a towel.

Her heart aches for them all. She’d been so used to separating things between Rio and her that somehow, she’d forgotten that the kid she’s trying to protect is his too. 

“I’ve got them. All six of them. I’ll fix it.” He says as he dries her off and wraps her up in a towel, the conversation coming to an end. He’s right. Brian won’t just forget about her because Rio stays away. They’re in too deep, too entangled to be separated just by walking away. 

  
  


“What are we gonna do?”

  
  


“You’re going to do nothing. Just let my boys keep an eye on you ok?” She nods numbly, accepting the fact that she’s caught up in this war.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WEW, hope this chapter was a good one! I’ve got most of the next chapter planned out already, so hopefully it won’t take too long to finish~
> 
> As usual, you comments keep me going and I love hearing from you guys! I had initially wanted to go with Elizabeth pushing Rio away and him leaving her to keep her safe. But then I realised...they are both too smart to think that Rio walking away would help keep her safe. I mean...he doesn’t exactly hide how much he cares for her...Brian definitely wouldn’t buy it.
> 
> We get to meet Rico in the next chapter and finally see what Brian’s up to! I’m excitedddddd.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rrrrrrrusty. 
> 
> Sorry it took long to get an update out. I'm working on a few things right now, and it seems I've forgotten how to write. The plot seems to coming along in my head, but once my fingers are on the keys, everything just. gets. stuck.
> 
> : (

The next few days pass in a haze, Mick’s still here, almost a permanent fixture in her home (no longer confined to his car and watching her across the road) and she’s surprised that her simple explanation to the children - that Mick’s a friend of Mr Rio - put an immediate halt to all questions. Instead, they’ve taken to Mick like fish to water, treating him like an extension of Rio, asking him the same questions they’ve asked him (did your tattoo hurt? When will I grow a beard?) 

She wants to ask Rio about Brian, about the cartel he’s involved in, about the repercussions it might have on her family, his life, but there never seems to be a good time. He either slips in through the backdoor in the middle of night, finding his way to her bed and capturing her lips with his until she’s moaning out his name and trying her best to stay quiet, him tiring her out till there’s no shred of reasonable thought in her head as she falls asleep. Or he shows up before dinner, the kids vying for his attention, each one with their own stories to tell. Then, it’s a flurry of putting the children to bed, Jane’s arms wrapped around his neck while he hoists her up on his hip, rocking her soothingly as he herds the older kids into their own rooms, turning night lights on and tucking them in.

She’s surprised by how well he fits in. How the first night he’d had ice cream with Jane hadn’t been the last night. And somehow, Jane had told on him, inviting her siblings to their late night ice cream dates, all the Boland children curious and dying to meet mum’s new friend. They stayed up waiting for him, pretending to be asleep under covers, then bursting down the stairs when they heard the backdoor open, drowning him with a hundred questions. He’d tried to turn up earlier after that. And then ice cream suppers had turned into dinner and on the weekends he came over, he stayed till morning so they could have brunch.

The speed at which their relationship was changing was dizzying. Not so long ago, he had been hell bent on exacting his revenge, resentful and angry. But then one night had turned into consecutive nights, one dinner turned into routine and somehow, they’d made it work. She remembers the last time they were at Dr Bloom’s, the sonogram buzzing to life as he watched the screen unblinking. She had in turn, watched him. The way his eyes had lit up when he saw their kid, the way the creases between his brows smoothened, the quirk in his lip evident. 

Tonight, he was supposed to bring Marcus over for dinner. 

_ “Does Rhea still hate me?” _

_ “That botherin’ you?”  _

_ “She’s Marcus’ mother, your ex-...something. Of course it bothers me” She swats at his bare chest, his laughter tinkling in her ear. _

_ “Ex-something huh.”  _

_ Huffing out a breath, she wonders if he’d ever open himself up to her. She’s carrying his child for god sake and she doesn’t even know his last name, doesn’t even know where he lives, or if he was ever married. _

_ “Hates that Marcus keeps askin’ for you. And Jane.” _

_ “Really?” She blinks, surprised that his son hadn’t just forgotten about her the same way her kids would most definitely have forgotten about the other PTA mums who had shown up, then disappeared from her life. _

_ “Yeh. What you want? A formal letter? Dear Mrs. Boland, I miss your cupcakes…” The way he speaks of this so nonchalantly pricks at her skin. _

_ “I thought...I mean she made it very clear she didn’t want me to be a part of your lives.” She trails off as she sees his expression change. _

_ “She doesn’t decide for us.”  _

_ “Well, she is Marcus’ mum…”  _

_ “Can’t control what he likes or dislikes. And what can I say, my son’s just like me.” He chuckles again, lightness returning to his features. _

_ “Mmm.” She mumbles, itching to ask to meet Marcus again, but the question dies before it leaves her lips. He considers her for a moment, black eyes meeting hers, as if reading her mind. _

_ “I’ll bring him over. Dinner on Friday?”  _

_ “You will? I mean...you can?” _

_ “You know me, Mami. There’s nothing I can’t do.”  _

_ - _

That is how she finds herself standing over a pot of pasta, stirring absentmindedly as her children make a wreck of the living room, pulling out all their toys and games, prepping Marcus for a wild welcome.

She’s making carbonara. Vaguely, she remembers Rhea telling her that Marcus being obsessed with cream sauce, and it won’t hurt to try and win him over right? Not that it’s a competition anyway. 

“Is that bacon?” Mick’s gruff voice breaks her from her thoughts. 

“Yeah, we’re having carbonara tonight.” She catches Mick licking his lips, a puzzle box in his hand - the children must have strong-armed him into helping to set up. 

She considers, then decides,  _ fuck it _ . She’s already going to have one gang member in the house for dinner. Won’t hurt having one more.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” 

She registers a brief look of surprise on his face before he nods and mumbles out a quick thanks. The house will certainly explode with Annie, Ben and Ruby joining later, a grand total of six kids, 5 adults wrecking havoc. She’ll have to pull out extra chairs. 

There’s a knock on the door and Jane’s immediately yelling for Marcus at the top of her lungs, barrelling towards the entrance. 

“Slow down honey!” Beth calls after her, just as she yanks the door open, revealing Rio and Marcus.

He’s dressed in a lighter button up today, a rich shade of blue she’s never seen him in before and she catches herself staring, her mouth slightly agape. He smirks at her, before nudging Marcus forward. He’s dressed identical to his father, except his shirt’s a pale blue, the colour of the sky on a clear day and suddenly, Beth has the itch to take a picture of this, hang it up on her wall. 

“Hi Mrs Boland! Thank you for inviting us for dinner!” The boy’s smile is blinding, even with a couple of teeth missing, and Beth can’t help but mirror his expression. He pulls up a small bunch of daisies from his back sheepishly, then hands it to her. But then he sees Jane and his hands stop mid air, undecided as to who he should be passing the flowers to. He makes a decision though, pushing the daisies towards Beth, before mumbling a quick sorry to Jane as she pouts and crosses her arms.

“Thank you Marcus! These are lovely, we’ll put them in Jane’s room so she can add them to her collection of dried flowers.” Beth responds, lowering herself to her knees so she can speak to Marcus and he barrels into her, knocking the wind out of her slightly as she tries to keep her balance. Rio’s arm reaches out to steady her.

“I missed you.” Marcus mumbles into her hair when she wraps her free arm around him, flower petals brushing against both their faces. There’s a pang in her chest, guilt maybe, that tugs at her insides. 

He lets go after awhile, when Jane begins tapping her foot impatiently. Marcus looks up at Rio expectantly, who gives him a nod and it only takes a second before he and Jane are barrelling into the living room and screeching in happiness.

“You showed up empty handed to dinner? Even your son knows better.” Beth teases as he helps her off her knees and back on her feet, frowning when he sees her stumble as her belly throws her off balance.

“You only bring a gift if you’re a guest. You pay the mortgage with my money yeh, makes it my house then. You don’t bring gifts for dinner at your own place. ‘Sides, who do you think paid for the flowers?”

Beth sputters. On one hand, she should be appalled that he called it his money when she had rightfully earned it. But on the other, she’s reeling from the fact that he’d called this his place. 

He strides into the living room, then exchanges a simple handshake with Mick, before making a beeline for the kitchen.

“Carbonara?” He lifts the lid on the pot, still bubbling and quirks a brow in her direction. Beth nods, before swatting his hand away and lifting the pot to drain the noodles.

“You tryna’ get into his good books huh? He smirks and she rolls her eyes, hates when he sees right through her.

“Are you saying you don’t like Carbonara?” He laughs and shakes his head in response.

“As long as you’re not making me a sandwich.” His comment takes her by surprise and she freezes momentarily, watching him smile triumphantly as he reaches around her to grab the plates from the cabinet.

She wonders how they got here. How he’s able to make jokes about  _ that day _ , when just months before, everything had been taboo to them. Reaching to dump the noodles in the pot, she’s just about to reach for the cream when he picks it off the island and passes it to her.

It’s so easy. Too easy when it’s with him. Dean never stays in the kitchen. Never knows what to help her with if she doesn’t spell it out specifically. But Rio - he’s pulling out cutlery from the cupboards, passing her the right ingredients at the right time. She thinks she’s on Iron Chef right now, and he’s her competent sous chef. 

But then her mind wanders to how much she still doesn’t know about him. She’d shown him all her cards, given him the plates, bared herself to him and yet, it feels like all she knows about him is the side he chooses to reveal to her.

“The bacon’s gonna burn.” He startles her, hand resting heavily on her hip as he points to the sizzling pan. She quickly picks up the rashes, before placing them on a paper towel to drain as she stirs the pasta simmering in cream.

Then she hears him pull out a knife from the drawers and can see him cutting the bacon into smaller pieces from the periphery of her vision. It makes her heart squeeze, the domesticity of this moment like a dream she wants to latch on to and never let go.

“The hell you still doing here?” He asks when Mick pops his head into the kitchen and swings open the fridge door for a beer.

“Stayin’ for carbonara.” Mick states, like it’s the only logical course of action when creamy pasta is concerned. Before Rio can say anything else, the door opens too forcefully and bounces off the wall as Annie shouts a hurried  _ Sorry! _ ,noisily entering the kitchen with two bottles of wine in hand.

She pauses when she notices Rio and Mick having a stare down, but proceeds to uncork the wine.

“Looks like the kitchen’s full. I’ll be out of your way as soon as I get these into glasses.” 

Rio turns to give Beth a look, sprinkling the bacon into the pan of pasta and Beth just shrugs. 

“Auntie Beth!” Ben enters the kitchen, and whatever manners Annie lacks, her son more than makes up for it as she rounds the island to envelope her in a warm embrace. Ben giggles when Beth’s belly gets in the way, before offering to help out in the kitchen, only to be shooed into the living room to join the rest of the kids. 

“So...this a party or what?” Rio corners her against the stove and whispers in her ear.

“Thought it’d just be us and the kids.” He sounds a little disappointed, but she’s distracted by his warm breath on the shell of her ear and the way his body’s pressed against her back.

“Annie and Ruby made plans to come over way before you said you’d be bringing Marcus. And Mick was just staring at the bacon as if it were his one true love. It’d be rude not to invite him to stay.” Beth mutters as she spoons out the pasta, her other hand stretched out, waiting for him to pass her the plates.

“Ruby’s coming too?” He groans good naturedly, then does as she expects, an empty plate appearing in her hand.

She raises a questioning eye to his reaction. She knows he has no issues spending time with Ruby and Annie. He might not always be totally comfortable around them, but after multiple occasions of him showing up on girl’s night had granted him the position of honorary snack curator. 

“Thought we’d get some time alone. I’ll be away next week.” He delivers the news nonchalantly, as though it’s not a big deal. And it shouldn’t be really, especially to her. It’s not like they’re married or are in some kind of committed relationship.

“Why?”

“Work, ma.” As usual, it’s a non answer and it gets Beth overthinking.

“Does it have something to do with Brian?” She asks and he just shrugs it off, picking up the second plate for her to dish the pasta into.

“Got to sort some shit out.” She feels her brows furrowing before she can control herself. The last thing she wants to do is kick up a big fuss like some sort of disgruntled wife, so even though she wants to ask more questions, she bites her tongue.

“Don’t worry yeah? I’ll be back in time for the doctor’s appointment.” She nods, then throws him a look. They’re finding out the gender this time round and he’s excited, she can tell. And it’s not that she isn’t, but after having four kids, she’s kind of apathetic to gender reveals now. But his excitement is palpable, endearing really, the way he had bet her that it was a girl.

There’s another round of bustling as the doorbell rings again and Ruby shows up, each of the kids wanting a hug of their own. She sends Rio to set the tables and round up the dinner guests as she finishes up with the last few plates, her heart full at the sight of her home filling up with people she loves the most.

  
  


_ - _

“So he’s gone for the week?” Annie asks, feet propped on the coffee table and Beth resists the urge to reach over and swat them off. She’s too comfy on the sofa.

“Not the entire week, just said it’d be a couple of days. When I asked for specifics, he just said  _ “I’ll be back when it’s done” _ .” Beth does a terrible impression of Rio’s voice and Annie echoes her, cackling when she realises she sounds like a teenager trying to sound older. 

“Well, at least he told you he was leaving instead of...radio silence.”

“You got homeboy on a real tight leash.” Annie sing-songs. Beth balks at that.  _ She does not. _ She definitely does not have him on a leash. Barely even has him on anything.

“So...it’s been good then I guess?” Ruby asks, sipping from her glass of wine. Beth swirls her own glass (virgin mojito, Annie’s secret blend), trying to figure out an answer.

“As good as it gets? Sometimes I feel that it isn’t real. That one day I’m going to wake up and realise that it’s all just in my head.” The silence that follows is deafening. Then after a beat, it’s Annie that speaks.

“You’ve got four kids, Beth. Sometimes even  _ I _ can’t wait to get out of your house, and don’t get me wrong. I love those little monsters, but they are  _ a lot _ to handle. So for him to be sticking around, not just when Dean has them, but even when they’re all here, trying to tear down the house, that says something.” 

  
  


_ I’ve got them. All six of them. I’ll fix it. _

  
  


And she wants to trust him. Trust herself, believe that she’s not jumping into this headfirst without a parachute. But then she remembers she knows nothing more about him than she did before they’d fallen into this...semblance of  _ domesticity.  _

“You know, I don’t even know his last name? Actually, I don’t even know his real name.” It ends off quiet, like she’s doubting herself.

“A name’s a name. You’ve known all of Dean’s names for the past twenty years and turns out, you didn’t really know anything about him after all. Trust me, I’m the last person to advocate for him, but I have eyes. And he cares about you.” 

“Yeah, Beth. I mean, you did shoot him. Three times. And he’s still here…” Annie plays with the glass in her hand, giving Beth a reassuring smile,.

“Oh, thanks for reminding me, I completely forgot that I tried to kill him.” She rolls her eyes in reply and Annie huffs indignantly.

“Exactly Beth! You tried to kill him and he’s still looking at you with heart eyes!” 

Ruby nods.

“Personally, I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere near anyone who has held a gun to my head more than once. But I guess it kinda suits you guys. He threatens to kill you, you  _ actually  _ do shoot him…” the statement ends with a shrug and Beth can’t help but wonder if their relationship will always be this big of a mess but right now, this thing between her and him? She kinda likes it.

-

Rio taps his feet on the carpeted floor of the plane, his fingers fiddling with the leather straps on his wrist. He hasn’t felt so restless in a while, the soft leather seats of the jet he’s on doing nothing to keep him from fidgeting. Mick’s over on the other side, sprawled out on two seats, snoring.

This trip to Mexico is unavoidable. He’d struck a deal with Brian, and he’s sure Rico would have heard by now. Better for him to take the initiative to put out the fire, to right the wrongs before it starts burning like an inferno. He’s gotten into bigger messes before, fucked up worse in his line of work, but this? This is different. 

He’s gotta find a way to keep Elizabeth out of this, assuming Rico doesn’t know anything yet. He taps his feet against the floor, his frown deepening as he rests his chin in his palm.

“You worried?”

Mick stretches, then breaks into a yawn.

“Nah. I can handle Rico.”

He’s sure Mick can see through his bullshit from a mile away. But Mick also knows there’s nothing much they can do about it now. He’s been playing with fire the moment he decided to let Elizabeth live. His absence from the cartel did not go unnoticed during the few months he’d needed to recuperate from the gunshots. And although he’d made up for it a few times over, picking off competition and rival gangs like they were worth nothing, then taking over territories like it was his name sake - Rico had grown suspicious. It was obvious his head wasn’t in the game.

“You know he’s gonna find out about Mrs. B sooner or later.” 

There’s a tightness in his neck he can’t ignore and he grinds his teeth in an attempt to release the pressure in his jaw.

“Well, let’s hope it’s later.”

-

The ride up to Rico’s is quiet, the rumble of the four wheel drive against gravel the only thing that’s keeping him grounded. He doesn’t get nervous - not since he’d risen through the ranks years ago - but he finds his palms sweating as the mansion comes into view.

Thing is, in this line of work, he’s always prepared for the worst. He makes sure his boys know this too. But there are things worse than death, like never seeing miles of creamy white skin, a flash of golden blond hair or the smell of lavender when you wake. 

  
  
  


“Christopher! So nice for you to visit.” 

Rico rises from his spot at the table and motions for him to sit. He claps a hand on Mick’s back, before inviting them to join for breakfast.

  
“I can’t say I’m surprised though. It seems you’ve divested yourself of the Callico deal and I’m the last to hear of it?” 

Rio shrugs, brushes it off like it’s no big deal.

“Been busy. With the funny money and the pharmacy going on, I’ve been bustin’ my ass off tryna move your guns. Guess if Brian wants it so bad, he can have it.”

Rico raises a brow, his fingers toying with the stem of his wine glass. 

“So what Brian wants, Brian gets?”

Mick lets out a grunt, and Rio shoots him a look.

“ ‘course not. That’s why I’m here yeah? Won’t drop the deal till I have your go ahead.” 

Negotiating with Rico is like dancing with the devil. For someone capable of so much ruin and destruction, the man masks it behind a gentlemanly facade. Always smartly dressed and embellished by details that perfectly curate the image of a rich, retired and bored man. But Rio knows better. 

There’s no sign of displeasure on Rico’s face, but there’s a moment of stillness before he nods, the topic dropped for the moment before they delve into meaningless small talk.

Rio counts the minutes before Rico breaks. He’s not known for his patience and despite the generous offer for breakfast and the mindless chit chat, Rio knows the other shoe will ultimately drop.

Rolling his shoulders back, he tries to shake out the ever present stiffness in his left shoulder, a constant reminder of the bullets he’d taken just months back. Rico clocks it, his features darkening. 

“You’ve been distracted.”

Rio whips his head up, meeting his gaze. 

“Heard from Brian you found someone new. And here I thought you were done with commitment after Rhea.

She’s the reason you were out of the game for months right? Put three slugs in you?”

Rio steels himself, returning his attention to his plate, his teeth clenching hard in his mouth. The knife he has clutched in his hands buries itself into his palm as he continues to work his way through his meal.

“And now, she’s the reason you’re dropping the Callico deal. Frankly, I’m disappointed she’s still alive. I taught you better.

I had such high hopes for you Christopher.”

He remembers the last time Rico said this to him. When Rhea had convinced him to clean up his act if he wanted to continue being in Marcus’ life. He’d shown up in front of Rico, told him he wanted an out, that he was done. The naivety of him then. Still young enough to believe that no matter the price, he could afford it. 

He’d paid dearly. And even then, he couldn’t get out. Digging himself deeper into the dirt with every job he had to finish, every task he thought would set him free. The only worthy reward was Marcus’ immunity.

“It seems you need a reminder.” 

With a wave of his arm, one of the guys bring in a small ziplock containing a black pill and another holds him in place. Mick rises from his seat, the chair squeaking noisily across the floor, but he’s held back as well, Rio shaking his head to stop him from resisting. Then, his mouth is being pried open and the pill is shoved in his mouth. He sputters, attempts to spit it out, buthis chin is roughly pushed upwards, the reflex to swallow impossible to deny.

“What did you just give me?” 

The men release their grip on him and immediately, Rio rushes towards Rico, the rage coursing through him like a wave, the need to react or drown in the depths of it throwing him off this game he’s playing.

Rico’s men grab him and push him down to the floor, knocking him down to his knees as he hears Rico laugh above him.

“Remember the last time you were distracted? I believe you’re past the point where broken bones and a few dead men will fix you. So...consider this an incentive.”

“Black Wisteria, heard of it?”

Rio runs the name in his mind, but comes up with nothing.

“Oh, sometimes I forget how young you are. Afterall, you’ve accomplished so much.

In the good ol’ days, it was used to...elegantly dispose of competitors, enemies...misbehaving boys. Sometimes I forget that there are solutions that extend beyond knuckle bracers and guns.” 

He feels the panic rise in his gut, but he quells it immediately. Poison. But that’s fine, he’s got a medical team at his disposal. They brought him back from the precipice of death, surely, they’ll be able to find an antidote.

“The effects are slow, the perfect amount of time for you to come around. Or perhaps you’d like to find an antidote? Go ahead, ask a doctor, run a search on the internet. By the time you’ve figured it out, you’d most likely be dead, or better yet, crawling back to me like the obedient and compliant boy I picked off the streets years ago.”

Rio scoffs, then wrestles against the men still pressing him to the ground, fighting to get up on his feet. 

“Even distracted, I still bring in more money than all your men combined.”

He clocks a twitch in Rico’s hand that tells him he’s right. 

“It seems I’ve made too many allowances for you huh. How’s Marcus? He must be what...six now?” 

The mention of Marcus makes Rio bite back his next retort. The exchange for Marcus’ immunity had prevented all their enemies from putting a target on his son’s back. It’s the only thing that still tethered him to the cartel, the reason he stayed after he no longer found any reason to do so.

“Nothing to say I see. Tell you what, you want out of the Callico deal? Fine. I never liked dealing with them anyway.

We’ll take over the whole arms business then. You’ll see to it, won’t you?”

Rio glares at him, but nods.

It’s a tall order, and blood will have to be spilt, but he’s done it before. It’s the reason why they keep him around - his aptitude for strategy and business a perfect match to Rico’s ruthlessness. Rico’s been wanting him to help expand the business for a long time now and this time, the offer is one he cannot refuse. 

Rico motions for the men to let him go and Rio ignores the ache in his knees as he brushes off the dust and rises to his feet. 

“Good good.

Glad we could have this talk. It was nice to see you too, Michael.” 

Rio scoffs, then motions for Mick to leave. It’s been barely an hour since they’ve arrived, but there’s nothing left to discuss. The terms have been set and the noose placed around his neck.

“Oh and Rio, about your little distraction…”

He freezes in his steps, the squeaking of his sneakers loud against the otherwise jarring silence.

“ _ Elizabeth _ is it?”

The sound of her name rolling off his tongue is misplaced and ill boding. The whole time, his only consolation was Rico’s nescience of her existence. But now, he feels as though the other shoe has truly dropped, the feeling of dread spreading unimpeded throughout his body.

“Either you get rid of her, or I will.”


End file.
